


Resuscitate

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, F/M, Minor Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: “I arrested you.”“I know.”“I sent you and your sister to prison for three years.”“I’m well aware.”Brienne narrowed her blue eyes in intense distrust and dislike at the one handed man standing before her. Her hand inched towards the gun on her hip. “So what on earth could you possibly want from me?”“I just… I wanted to tell you…”“What, Mr. Lannister?”Jaime took a deep breath before he looked up, emerald eyes meeting sapphires. “I wanted to thank you, Officer Tarth. For saving my life.”******Modern AU in which Brienne is the only cop in Kingslanding brave enough to arrest the drug addicted co-dependent twins of the mighty Tywin Lannister and Jaime sees it as a chance for redemption.





	1. Jaime I

“Please. Jaime, please.”

“Cersei, stop.”

“Jaime please… Jaime! Come on, Jaime, please!”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?!”

She didn’t. She never did.

Jaime ignored her begging and cries, concentrating on rubbing her arm with his fingers, trying to bring his sweet sisters collapsed vein to the surface of her skin.

After another minute or so of rubbing it appeared like a beautiful blue river flowing against milky white skin. Slowly as to not miss his mark, still not used to using his left hand after these past three years, Jaime pushed the needle into her fair skin, plunging the liquified cocaine into her arm.

He took off the crimson belt tied around her skinny arm before he bent down and wiped away the hot red bubble of blood where he had injected her before he sat up and tied the temporary tourniquet around his own bicep. Jaime found his own vein far easier, having a few years less experience than Cersei and grabbed his own needle, pushing his own demons inside his useless appendage (even after all these years he still wasn’t sure what the purpose of an arm without a hand was.)

His sweet sister once told him there was no reason for them not to share needles. They were one in the same, two parts of the same whole, they came into the world together, they shared a womb together but the one time he allowed himself to use the same needle moments after she did, he had such a fit of paranoia and delusions that Cersei, even in her addled state, had known enough to call an ambulance.

There was no record of that hospital visit of course. There was no record of any of the twin Lannister’s crimes, not of their OD’s, not of their multiple stents in the best rehabs Kingslanding and Casterly Rock has to offer, not of anything…

Jaime felt the sweet relief almost immediately. That sickly sweet rush of euphoria that drowned him in blood and wrapped him in comforting arms. He felt the night sky fold around him and he saw the stars burn bright with crimson fires. His skin was alive with electricity and pleasure and a million knives plunging deep inside him, separate feelings that mixed seamlessly together all at once.

He leaned back against the headboard, letting his arm fall to the ground. The sound of the falling needle hitting the carpet of the hotel room echoing around him. His eyes started to close, focused on everything and nothing when he felt her.

Cersei’s chapped lips pressed against his, her legs swinging over him and straddling him. He reached up and push what was once thick beautiful locks of golden hair now lank and thin and greasy away from her face. Her eyes were sunken in, her black pupils overtaking the emerald green that mirrored his.

She bent down, biting and kissing and licking the flesh behind his ear. “Fuck me, Brother,” she purred in a soft whisper that shot straight to his groin.

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on her face, hollowed and gaunt, a shadow of the great beauty she used to be, as she took off her tank top. He watched the lion tattoo on her breast, strong and proud and mirroring the one overtop Jaime’s heart, flex with her movement.

Two lions. Two twins. Two halves of one whole. Two gigantic fuck ups…

Her hands went to his jeans and unbuttoned them, maneuvering them and his boxers over his growing cock, removing them completely. Her small dainty hand found his shaft and she began stroking him to full attention.

Jaime ran his one good hand over her body; curvy and feminine but still somehow thin and frail. Her ribs were beginning to show again. Jaime reached up and kissed her lion tattoo, moving his lips down to her curvy breast and taking her nipple in his mouth, thinking about how he was going to have to convince her to spend some of their money on food rather than give it all to Bronn for their next score.

Cersei moaned, her hands finding the back of his head and gently pulling at his hair before she reached down and hiked up her skirt and sank down onto his cock.

No matter what, whenever he was inside his sweet sister, she was always warm and soft, his one solid good constant in the world.

Jaime wanted to laugh. The one positive in his messed up life was how good his twin’s cunt felt around his cock.

Gods he needed help.

But like every other time he was inside her when he was high, all thoughts soon vanished but her. Cersei and him were the only thing that mattered in this world, the only thing that existed...

She rode him hard and deep, her nails scratching his chest and raking over the gold and red ink of the lion on his breast. Nothing of the expert physique he had when he was Quarterback for the Casterly Rock Wildcats existed anymore. He was just as frail, just as weak, just as much a former shadow of his old self as she was but none of that mattered.

Nothing mattered but Cersei and the needle he dropped beside the bed.

Cersei and her sweet kisses and warm cunt and soft breasts and dainty hands; as hateful and sinful and terrible as he was.

They came together crying out each other’s names just as they had done a hundred times before.

She collapsed next to him, her breath tired and haggard and before he could blink she was wrapped in his arms, resting her head on his chest, letting the colors and sounds of this world inhabit every inch of their being as they rode out their high together, wrapped in one another’s embrace.

Cersei came down before he did and nuzzled his neck, planting a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Call Bronn,” she whispered, trailing a finger across his lion tattoo.

Jaime reached on the dirty crowded bed stand and grabbed his phone, dialing the well memorized number and getting nothing but five rings before a voicemail.

“He isn’t answering,” he told her, leaning back on the pillow and closing his eyes.

“Try again,” she urged him. “Please Jaime.”

He sighed, dialing the number again and getting the same results.

“Call him again,” Cersei begged. “Please call him…”

Jaime tried again and again until finally on the fifth time a voice picked up. 

“You’re a persistent cunt, ya know that?” Bronn barked in his ear. He heard the sound of several women in the background and suddenly he understood why he didn’t pick up his phone.

“We need eight grams,” Jaime told him.

$480 gave them eight grams at $60 a pop. Four needles each for him and Cersei.

A single drop in the ocean of the Lannister fortune.

“I just gave you and your sister eight grams the other day!” the dealer protested.

“I really don’t think you should be making judgement calls when you’re selling drugs out of a Flea Bottom hotel room and it sounds like you’re in the middle of a threesome.”

“Well who's the one being judgy now?” Bronn sighed loudly. “I can’t come to you this time, you’re gonna have to come to me.”

Jaime promised he would be there soon and after hanging up told Cersei he was going to meet with Bronn.

“Come with me,” he told her, taking hold of her hand. “We can get a burger on our way back.” He offered a soft smile. “It can be like a date.”

“I don’t want a burger,” she groaned, closing her eyes and turning away from him.

Concern flooded him now. “You need to eat, Cersei. It’s been three days.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“I know that but you have too.” He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her lips. “Please? For me?”

Cersei sighed, eyeing him with annoyance before she got out of the bed and pulled back on her tank top.

After they were both dressed and looking as acceptable as two coke heads could look, they left their motel room and headed out into the city.

They were staying in Redkeep, the upscale part of the vast sprawling capital and Bronn was in Fleabottom, the rough dangerous slums where gunshots and dogs barking and men shouting and women screams were the sympathies of the night.

Jaime hailed them both cab. Cersei offered to drive but he didn’t want to risk her nodding off mid-drive, and the two of them huddled together in the back, arms wrapped around one another and his sweet sister resting her tired head against his chest.

“I really don’t want a burger,” she grumbled again as they drove.

Jaime kissed the top of her head. “I know,” was all he said.

Soon enough boarded up businesses and garbage with men and women sleeping in the streets replaced glimmering buildings that reached the sky and upscale people walking around on clean sidewalks.

Soon after they pulled up to a roughshod looking motel room. Jaime paid the cabbie and got out, assisting Cersei in the same and moments later Jaime was handing over a stack of cash to Bronn Blackwater.

He was an older man, closer to sixty than fifty and looked his age as well, with scraggly dark brown hair that reached past his ears, with a dangerous wolffish smile that always made Jaime feel uneasy and had him eyeing his dealers waistband for a gun or dagger.

“Make it last this time, aye?” Bronn said, slapping the tiny baggies of white powder into Jaime’s hand who quickly put it in his pocket. The hard man looked back into his motel where Jaime could hear no less than three women laughing. “Or at least until the morning.”

They said their thanks and Jaime and Cersei walked away from the motel, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they made their way to a rather lowbrow ldiner that was just a block away. 

Before they even sat down Cersei was dragging him into the women's bathroom and into one of the stalls.

“Do it, Jaime,” she whispered, frantic, clutching his stained T-shirt as he got out the lighter and spoon. When he got out the handful of baggies, Cersei grabbed for them, putting half in her coat pocket.

It always made her feel better when she held onto the drug.

“Please. Please, Jaime, please hurry…”

He fumbled for the needles he kept in his jacket, going as quick as he could, both of them moaning in relief when he plunged their relief from this fucked up world into their arms. The moment he was done he dropped the needles into the wastebasket and watched as Cersei sank down to her knees, reaching for the zipper on his jeans but Jaime grabbed hold of her too thin arm and pulled her back to her feet.

“Someone might walk in,” he warned her in a soft whisper, placating her needs with a soft kiss. “And you need to eat.”

Her tongue danced over his. “I don’t want to eat,” she breathed. “I want you. I want my brother, I want my lover…”

“Later.”

He unlocked the stall door and pushed it open, hoping it might stay her kisses. Jaime wrapped his arm around her tiny waist, half carrying her out of the stall and out of the bathroom, doing his best in his impaired state to make it look like a brother was helping his intoxicated sister to a booth.

Jaime ordered the two of them the biggest cheeseburgers they had and two plates of fries and two cherry sodas.

He wanted to laugh. On the surface it was so traditional and simple and innocent, a brother and sister ordering cheeseburgers and cherry sodas in a diner… Meanwhile his lighter, spoon and two baggies of coke were in his pocket, four bags were in Cersei’s and they both smelled like sweat and sex.

Wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her closer, rubbing her back, trying not to think about how he could feel her spine beneath his fingers. Just as their drinks were set in front of them the bell above the door jingled and in walked the tallest woman Jaime had ever seen.

She was broad too with big shoulders, bigger them some of the linebackers he had played football with, with no breasts or much of a figure at all to speak of. Her hair was the color of straw and slicked back and her face… her face was pale and plain and almost homely with big lips set in a grim line, a crooked nose and a scattering of freckles across her skin.

But those eyes… there wasn’t a man or woman alive who could have found a cruel word to say about those astonishing sapphire eyes.

She was also a cop.

Her uniform did nothing to flatter her already non-existent curves and her belt was loaded down with all the necessities her profession needed. The black plastic name tag on her black shirt read ‘Brienne Tarth in white caps locked letters. On her shoulders was a single gold stripe, showing she had been promoted to the rank of Sergeant, quite a feat considering her age which was actually a few years younger than Jaime

Her partner was a good looking average sized man with brown and hazel eyes, and whereas she didn’t spare even a hint of a smile and walked with a purpose, ‘Hyle Hunt’, the name tag read, strutted with a swagger and his handsome face wore a smirk that almost envied Lannister smugness. He had no gold stripes on his uniform.

“Dear GODS, that is the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen,” Cersei gasped, more than loud enough that the cop heard, her eyes that were dialed enough so they were almost pure black, wide and staring.

“Shut up!” Jaime hissed at his sister when he saw the blondes eyes flicker towards them as she and her partner approached the counter. “That’s a fucking cop, Cersei!”

“Don’t you think so?” his twin said, again far louder then she would have been had she not have a gram of the best Kingslanding coke rushing through her collapsed and abused veins.

“Yes, now please be quiet,” he begged her.

But, of course, because absolutely nothing in his life worked out the way he wanted, Cersei just got louder.

“Hey, Goldcloak, are you a guy or a chick?” she yelled at the now blushing cop whose crimson seemed to travel all the way down to her neck, a nickname from an age when the predecessors to the Kings Landing PD wore black armor and gold cloaks. “I’d ask you to whip out your tits and show us but I doubt that’d prove anything.”

Jaime put his face in his hands as Cersei laughed at her own unfunny joke. Every eye in the diner was on them now, even without looking he could feel it. He spared a glance at the two cops, groaning as he saw Brienne approach the table.

“How drunk is she?” she asked Jaime flatly.

“Very,” he told her, his voice shaking. The weight of the small baggies in his coat a weighing a thousand pounds a piece.

As he spoke he found that he couldn’t tear himself away from her eyes. It had to be the drugs. It had too, a woman that ugly had no business having eyes THAT beautiful. Two deep pools of sapphires, calm and knowing.

“You’re aware that public intoxication is a crime?”

“I- I am, she is, we are…”

She quirked a pale brow at him as his words fumbled. He had never been a smooth talker when he was high. When he was sober, his tongue was as nimble as his brother’s, as his sisters used to be.

She put a friendly hand on his shoulder and he shuddered at the sudden touch. She’s warm.

“Get your order to go then take a cab home okay?” Brienne reached into her pocket, pulling out a leather wallet. “Do you two have enough money to get to where you need to go?”

 _!_ **_CRASH!_ **

Cersei’s soda went flying across the table and Brienne barely moved out of the way quick enough, with surprisingly fast reflexes for a woman of her size, so that the heavy glass sailed past her and landed with a loud crash against the wall.

Jaime whipped towards his sister who was fumbling to her feet, her eyes wild and full of fury.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” she roared, every bit the lioness as the ink overtop her breast, scrambling over Jaime to her to the tall cop.

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged out of the booth by the blondes partner and he watched as Cersei leapt at Officer B. Brienne.

Later on he would realize the tall muscular cop had barely touched his twin and had he been sober, he actually would have greatly appreciated the humane way the cop used when handling the woman who just tried to assault her. But in his state, Jaime didn’t see gentle but firm hands pulling Cersei’s hands behind her back in a painless maneuver or barely using any of her strength to bend her over the table.

He saw the cop grab hold of his sister and wrench her arms nearly out of her socket as she forced them behind her back and slammed her down onto the table so hard it was a miracle she didn’t draw blood.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!” Jaime shouted, fighting against the cop who tightened his grip. Jaime threw his head back, colliding with the back of his skull with Hyle’s nose and reached back and kicked him, hard, in the shin.

Hyle let him go enough so that Jaime was able to pull away from him and he went flying at the blonde officer who saw him coming from half a mile away. She held Cersei down with one arm and grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and swung him around so that Jaime landed with a painful crash against the wall.

He rose one of his arms and, using all the strength the drugs had left him, slammed his elbow down on her forearm. Brienne winced but didn’t let go of him, but the shock had loosened the grip on Cersei enough so that she was able to wiggle free and started to sprint towards the exit but was easily caught by Hyle who was far less gentle with Cersei then Brienne had been.

Brienne yanked Jaime around, slamming him against the wall, quickly spreading his legs so he couldn’t kick her like he had kicked her partner and stood far enough back that he couldn’t reach her with his head.

Cersei was screaming as Hyle slammed her against the wall besides Jaime, tears making their way down her face as the two of them searched their persons. Jaime closed his eyes as Brienne dipped her hand in and found the two baggies of coke, along with his lighter spoon and two unused needles.

“She’s holding for me!” Jaime protested when Hyle pulled out the four grams from Cersei’s pockets. “It’s not hers, she was just holding it for me! It’s all mine!”

“Yeah because she looks like an ideal citizen,” Hyle sneered, reaching back into her pockets and pulling out her wallet. Like always, Jaime let out a breath of relief when he saw the cops eyes widened in disbelief, and then fear, when he caught a glimpse of the name on their ID’s.

“Shit…” Hyle breathed, looking over at Brienne. “Tarth… these are the Lannister twins. Tywin Lannister’s kids.”

Jaime expected a sharp intake of breath, a stuttered apology, occasionally some angered and annoyed grumbling, and then their big catch would have to be released back into the wild.

He saw his still teary eyed sister smirk at the fear in the cops eyes, an age old sound that brought them more relief than even the strongest drugs could.

Brienne though… she barely blinked. She did, however, tighten her grip on Jaime’s arm. If she didn’t recognize his face, an understandable mistake seeing as how it had been three years since he was plastered all over the news and he had since grown more gaunt, lost about a quarter of his weight and bulk, his golden hair had turned long and matted and his clean shaven face now had a full beard, she surely recognized the name.

“They assaulted two officers and had drugs and paraphernalia in their pockets,” Brienne spat back. “We aren’t letting them go.”

“They’re Tywin Lannister’s children,” he said again, slower, as if she had missed the announcement for the first time. “The captain will-.”

“If they had any other last name we would already have them in car by now!”

“But they don’t have just any last name, they’re-.”

“I know who they are.” Brienne retrieved her cuffs from her belt and fashioned them uncomfortably tight around Jaime’s left wrist and then cuffed the other end to the belt loop on his jeans. She leaned in close, snarling in his ear. “And I know what he’s done.”

“You seem to like those handcuffs rather tight,” he purred with as sharp a grin as his weak jaw could deliver. “You let us go and I’ll let you cuff me as tight as you want.”

“Officer Hunt, place that woman under arrest.”

“Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one overpowered,” Jaime mused. “I could fling you down, tear off your clothes, cuff you to the bed, have my way with you... I suppose if we turned all the lights out, you wouldn’t be THAT bad.”

“Officer Hunt! As the senior officer I am ordering you to place her under arrest!”

The hazel eyed man reluctantly handcuffed Cersei. A cold sweat broke out on his brow while nervous eyes watched as Brienne grabbed Jaime by the restrained arm and half dragged the man outside to their police car.

“My father will pay you,” Jaime told the blonde, his voice barely audible over Cersei’s screams. “Whatever you ask him it’s yours. You’d never have to work another day in life, you don’t even have to release me, just let my sister go. Say you found all the drugs on me.”

His bribe was answered with silence as she pushed him into the back of her squad car. Cersei came next on the other side, screaming and sobbing and kicking the back of the cops seat.

“Calm down,” he urged her, his own voice on the edge of desperation. Jaime wanted to take her into his arms and hold her and kiss her until their fears had melted away. “Cersei, please.”

“I told you!” she gasped through her sobs. “I told you not to stop for burgers, you stupid incompetent fuck!”

“Please just calm down,” he begged as the two cops got into the squad car. “It’ll be alright, Father will get us out of this. He always does…”

Two months later, as he and Cersei stood in judge Arryns chambers, solemn and emerald eyes flooded with shock as he read off the sentences, Jaime realized it was the first time he had ever lied to his twin.

They had been sentenced for three years apiece. Three years in prison, three years away from their families, three years away from each other.

As the gavel echoed in the courtroom, Jaime turned to his family. His father had anger brewing in his eyes but he sat there dignified and composed.

He and Cersei already brought enough shame in the family, Tywin didn’t need to add to it by acting on his ire.

Tyrion was fighting back a smirk and losing hopelessly. He raised a flask as Jaime caught his eye, toasting Jaime to joining the ranks as ‘family embarrassment.’

Finally, as the bailiffs came to take him away, he turned towards the tall blonde cop staring back at him with her head held high. She wasn’t taking pleasure in this win, she wasn’t gloating or sneering… She was letting him know he couldn’t intimidate her. He couldn’t, Cersei couldn’t, even the mighty Tywin couldn’t.

But Jaime didn’t look at her to try to frighten her, Cersei was doing a good enough job at that (so much so that when Jaime tried to hug her goodbye she barely wrapped her pin thin arms around him and rather focused all her energy on glaring at the officer responsible).

Jaime had been sober for three days, and, right before they dragged him from the courtroom, all he could think was that he HAD been wrong.

Her eyes really had been that stunning.

Please Review!


	2. Jaime II

**Two and a half years later**

“You’re leaving me.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You ARE leaving me! You get to get out of here tomorrow and I’m stuck here for another six months. How is that not leaving me?”

Jaime sighed as he looked across the cheap looking neon orange painted table at his cross looking sister.

For two years and six months the twins of the mighty Tywin had been stuck in Kingslanding Medium Security prison. For two years and six months they had eaten barely edible prison food, slept on paper thin cots with itchy thin wool blankets overtop, worn the same ugly mud colored scrubs with the elastic shot in the waist and worn out too big brown slip-ons every day. For two years and six months they had been told when they could shower, when they could shit, when they could leave their 6X8 cell, when they could even eat.

And two years, six months and three days; Jaime had been sober.

Getting bail was easy enough. Their father had already paid it by the time they got back to the holding area, and afterwards the two had gone straight to Bronn and from there had gone straight to a nearby motel room.

“Nothings going to happen,” Jaime assured Cersei as they basted in the afterglow of their sex and high. “You’ll see. Father will bribe the ugly cop, he’ll bribe the judge, he’ll bribe whoever he has too. We won’t spend a day in prison.” He kissed the top of her head and gathered the frail woman in his arms. “I promise. We won’t ever be apart.”

But two months later Jaime and Cersei were in that court room, in front of the Honorable, in name and reputation unfortunately, Jon Arryn, pleading guilty while their lawyer Petyr Baelish, a weaselly sniveling man who was one of the top defense attorneys in the country and was well on his way to a judgeship (whose ‘hard earned wins’ were done with bundles of cash and unscrupulous photos taken at a distance and threats delivered in alleyways under a cover of darkness) stood beside them pursing his thin lips at a three day sober Jaime who stared straight ahead.

They had plead guilty. Jaime had been the one to convince Cersei that the judge would go easier on them if they avoided a trial. Petyr begged them to reconsider. Trials were much easier to win, meaning there were far more people involved who he could bribe or threaten, but both of them had refused. A trial meant even more family scrutiny, it meant even more reporters, it meant even more dirty secrets coming to life…

They had to be dragged into court, again, for some minor administrative issue four days before they were going to be sentenced, and Jaime, already itching and sick for another high, caught the eyes of the bitch who had arrested them in the first place.

Gods she was ugly, and her body didn’t even have the decency to make up for it by giving her decent curves.

Brienne had showed up to every single court appearance in her dress uniform, not that it did her any favors in terms of showing off her non-existent figure, stiff backed and a serious grim look on her homely face.

 _She wants to prove she isn’t intimidated by the terrifying Lannister’s,_ Jaime thought to himself the first time he saw her in the courtroom. _She’s a brave bitch, gotta give her that,_ he admitted with a grudging respect.

In the weeks that followed Petyr complained loudly and often how impossible it was to not only bribe her but find ANYTHING that he could use to threaten her with. Her father was the police commissioner in some little island off the east coast of Stormsend so he couldn’t very well threaten his life without a huge red-flag going up, not did she have any siblings, aunts or uncles or even a favorite cousin. The only thing he might be able to use was that Selwyn was in his later fifties and liked women in their early twenties but he doubted threatening to expose legal, if not cringeworthy, relationships would make the cop bow down.

Brienne didn’t even have so much as a parking ticket that Petyr or Tywin could use to blackmail her with, and she had risen through the ranks quicker than any other cop, certainly any female officer, in Kingslanding simply because of how good and honorable and meticulous she was at her job.

But what had drawn Jaime’s attention that day was the way she was looking at him; with disgust, like he was lower then the dirt on the bottom of her black clunky shoes.

_Who the hell is this bitch to judge me? I’m a Lannister, one of the oldest families in Westeros and who is she? Some daughter of some horny old man out on some ugly little rock on the sea. Stupid ugly bitch..._

For years afterwards Jaime wouldn’t be able to explain why her judgement haunted him more than anyone else’s. More than his fathers or brothers or even the fading memory of his mother, more than the looks on the streets when he stumbled high and dissociative mumbling to himself, more than the knowing disgusted looks the staff at the motels and hotels gave him and Cersei…

Something about the way her big blue eyes were so full of hateful scorn when she had no idea why he was the way he was made him angry and more than that; it made him feel guilty. He was suddenly aware of his every flaw, of every mark on his arm, of every weak and frail muscle, of his overgrown hair and beard, of the way he was scratching at his arm like some common crackhead, of the brown stains on his teeth, of the way his once gleaming bright emerald green eyes were sunken in and lifeless, devoid of light and joy.

Of every mark Cersei left with her mouth, even hidden one’s.

Brienne hadn’t even said a single word to him and he felt more judged then he had ever felt before.

“Fuck her,” he spat later on that night in the motel bathroom. Cersei has gone to sleep an hour ago and Jaime was staring in the mirror, not recognizing and hating the reflection that the sheer glass showed him, hating the judging blue eyes staring back at him. “Fuck that ugly bitch, I’ll run that cop through… Ugly flat chested bitch.”

Jaime stared long and deep at the reflection, the memory of Brienne Tarth’s scornful look seared into his memory as if someone had burned it there. Jaime looked down at his handless arm, at the ugly marks lining what was once an impressive muscled extremity, now just a thin useless hunk of flesh that was only fit to stab needles into.

It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t wanted this, he never did. He didn’t ask for this, no more than Cersei had… Neother one of them wanted to be coked out of their mind in a sleazy motel room, smelling like each others sex, frail and thin and useless...

His eyes burned with tears and his hand, his only hand, clenched tight, as he looked back at the mirror, and Brienne's judging sullen glaring face stared back at him, so clear that he thought she was real.

“FUCKING BITCH!” he roared, slamming his fist against the glass and shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Jaime sank down the wall, sobbing, his knees pulled to his skinny chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his head bowed as the tears and snot and gasping breaths burst forward, ignoring the blood running down his hand.

His twin must have woken up at all the noise and walked into the bathroom, freezing when she saw her broken shell of a brother weeping like a child on the floor. She kneeled down, ignoring the shards of glass cutting into her legs and wrapped two pin thin arms around her brother, peppering him with soft kisses and softer whispers that everything was going to be okay, that they still had three days to figure something out, that she wouldn’t ever leave him.

The two of them, the ‘golden twins’ as everyone used to call them, fell asleep in each other’s arms in a dirty bathroom in a Fleabottom motel room surrounded by broken glass that cut into their skin… The next morning Jaime told Cersei he was feeling too quasey and ill to want the drug and he spent the day sleeping, vomiting, groaning; tossing and turning in the sweat and piss soaked sheets before sleep claimed him again, being coherent only long enough to tie off and inject Cersei before he tossed the needle to the ground, ignoring her pleas to stay awake with her and her claims that he was sick BECAUSE he wasn’t taking the drug.

That was day one of sobriety.

Day nine was visiting day at the prison.

The way Kingslanding Medium Security Prison was designed was to hold the women and men were housed in their separate buildings, with separate yards, separate cafeterias, separate sleeping quarters and separate rec-rooms. Then there was a long hallway guarded with no less than two gates, two doors, two guards on each end and no windows so even if you did manage to find yourself in that hallway you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the other side.

But the men and women DID share a visitors room, which meant that when Tyrion came to visit, Tywin hadn’t even so much as answered a phone call since they got to prison, he was allowed to meet with his brother and sister.

The visiting room was full of two vending machines, a soda machine, circular bright orange scratched and drawn on tables, and uncomfortable bolted down metal chairs with the guards quarters overlooking it and two officers standing watch.

Cersei looked an absolute wreck. Her hair seemed even more listless, she was jittery, her eyed wide and worried and flittering around the room, she seemed like she was always on the verge of tears and she nearly jumped out of her skin at every sound. Jaime wanted to wrap his arms around her and take his twin as far away from this place as he could. Tyrion tried to engage them in conversation, after the mocking that the two golden children were the ones behind bars of course, but before he even finished the first sentence Cersei was snapping at him. Something was hurting her, even more than being locked in a cell

“Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?” Jaime ‘suggested’ to his younger brother who raised his brow at his siblings.

“I came to visit my brother and sister. I don’t really fancy being used as a means to an end just so you two can have some alone time

“I know and we appreciate that but… please?”

Tyrion sighed and shook his head as he got down from the uncomfortable chair and made his way to the visitors restroom.

Jaime didn’t even have to ask Cersei what was the matter. The moment he was gone, that was when her outburst came.

“I can’t do it, Jaime!” she cried out, green eyes wide and terrified and pleading. “You have to get me out! Jaime, please, I- I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“You can do it, Cersei, I know you can,” he told her softly. He reached across the table to grab her hand, as he had done a thousand times before but pulled it back like a snake had bitten him when he hears a guard booming, ‘no touching!’

Cersei let out a sob and buried her face in her hands. He watched, heartbroken as her shoulders shook. “You can do this,” he whispered softly to ber. “You’re so strong, I know you. It’s three years, three years and we’ll be out.”

She said something, her voice so choked with tears he barely heard her. “Wha-... Cersei, I can’t-... you have to speak up, I can’t-.”

“He looks like Robert!” she half screamed, half sobbed. Jaime was acutely aware that nearly all eyes were on their table now watching as the strong Lioness, the daughter of the mighty Tywin, broke down in the visiting room.

“There’s a guard,” she continued, her frail body trembling. “In the women’s wing, he’s named Waters. he looks like him, Jaime, he looks EXACTLY like him! I can’t-! Please you have to get me out, he looks like him and I- every time I see him, I-!” Her words were indistinguishable now, just gasping ugly sobs that drew the attention of every visitor, prisoner and guard.

Jaime reached over and grabbed her hand, barely flinching at the guards shouted command not to touch her.

“It’s not him,” he whispered so softly he wasn’t sure that she could hear him over her heartbreaking cries. “It’s not him. Roberts gone. He’s dead, Cersei, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Jaime, I can’t do this.” Her voice, once proud and powerful and strong now a frail shadow of its former self. “I know I can’t! Please, you have to help me, I can’t do this, not without you! Jaime please!”

Cersei was begging. She never used to beg, not to Jaime, not to their father, not to anyone. Now it was all she seemed to do. She begged for drugs, she begged her father for money, she begged Jaime to help with the injections, and now she was begging for his help to escape.

Tears flooded his emerald eyes as his sisters cries reached inside and squeezed his heart until it was nothing but dust.

He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and wipe her tears until she softened in his grasp and her tears ceased, all the while whispering in her ear that she was safe, that Jaime wasn’t going to let anything hurt her, that Robert Baratheon was dead and buried and rotting in the ground.

“Cersei, listen to me-“

“No you listen!” she screamed, slamming her fist on the table. “He looks like him, Jaime!”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the guards make their way over to them.

“Cersei, calm down,” he begged her. “Please, you’re gonna get in trouble!”

Words went unheeded and sure enough the very next moment the guard, an old stone faced guard was grabbing her by the arm and hoisting her to her feet

“Get off me!” she shrieked, fighting uselessly against his iron hold. He saw the fresh bubble of blood that she had given herself minutes before her visit on her arm. “Get OFF! JAIME!”

“Cersei, please, don’t fight,” he pleaded, using every ounce of self restraint he had left to remain seated. “Just calm down… hey don’t- don’t hurt her, she’ll go quietly, please… Cersei…”

“Easy, Lannister,” the guard growled as he half dragged the hysterical woman from the visitors room. To which one he was talking too Jaime couldn’t be sure but he stayed seated, his eyes locked on his twin until her face and eventually her screams faded from view and earshot.

Tyrion joined them moments later, an amused look on his face. “She seems to be taking being locked up well…”

“There’s a guard,” Jaime muttered too low for anyone but the dwarf sitting across from him to hear. “Last name Waters in the women’s wing. If he’s the decent sort then you need to get him transferred to the men’s wing, if he’s an asshole then I want him fired.”

Tyrion cocked his head to the side. “You haven’t even been here for a week and you’re already asking me to bribe a guard?”

“Tyrion, please. Cersei needs you to do this.”

“Oh, well, if CERSEI wants it done-.”

“Okay fine, _I_ need you to do this. Please? I won’t ask you for anything else the rest of the time I'm here.”

“Liar.” The dwarf sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll get him out of the women’s wing. Do I get to know why at least?”

Jaime was the only one Cersei told about what her husband had done to her and he wasn’t about to share her secret.

“Just trust me when I say it needs to be done.”

For Tyrion’s credit not even four days afterwards there was a new guard in the men’s wing, and the first time Jaime laid eyes on him, he knew exactly what Cersei had been talking about.

Gendry Waters was tall and strong with stormy blue eyes and hair that was coal black with a face that looked like his former brother-in-law had stepped from the grave and de-aged twenty years. If Robert did to Jaime what he did to Cersei, he would have had a breakdown as well…

The next time the three of them got together for a visit, their sister actually smiled at not just Jaime but Tyrion as well.

After the first time there were no more outbursts from Cersei during their biweekly visits with their brother, although more times often then not she would remain silent and sullen until Tyrion left to ‘use the bathroom’ and it gave the twins a moment to catch up on their own. She seemed to be adjusting, slower than Jaime, but adjusting nonetheless and, she told him, had even gotten a steady supply from one of the girls, Yara Greyjoy. Not enough to keep her high but just enough to keep her straight. When Cersei asked if Jaime had found his supplier yet, he lied and said he had.

Jaime’s face had started to fill back out, he was working out daily during his yard time and he could see a hint of his old physique back, and his eyes started to look more like the emeralds he remembered rather than sunken in and hollow ugly green rocks.

Jaime was 23 days sober when he told her that.

Today, the day before he was able to move from prison into a halfway home for the next six months, he was 915 days sober.

Cersei had just shot up not even two hours prior to the visitation.

She looked, more or less, the same as she did that day in the courtroom only she couldn’t skip out on meals so she had gained a healthy amount of weight back, she had been forced to shower so she looked cleaner, her hair was, more or less, still long and lank, but Jaime would have been lying if he said she didn’t look better.

“I’ll come and visit you every visitors day, I swear it,” Jaime promised. “It’s not like we saw each other more often than that in here anyway. And I can write you now, every day, twice a day in fact.”

Cersei pouted. “It’s not the same. I felt better knowing you were across the hall.” She choked on her tears. “And now you’re gone, and I won’t have anyone.”

“Cersei, you help run a smuggling ring that the whole damn prison knows about, you have girls worshipping at your feet.”

“It’s not the same! I don’t want them, I want _you!”_ She leaned in, lowering her voice to a soft purr. “I’ve wanted you for two and a half years, Jaime…”

He shuffled in the metal back seat at the suggestive comment. Jaime had used his sister’s face as it had been before the drugs to fill his fantasies when he pleasures himself, and it had worked, for a spell. But the further he moved from the needle, the less picturing his sisters face and cunt and tits made him hard.

 _You’ve just been away too long,_ he told himself, determined to believe his own words. _You can’t picture her right, that’s why you can’t get hard. Once you’re able to touch her again things will go back to normal…_

“Six months. That’s all you have left.” He reached across the table, getting his hand as close to hers as he dared. “You can get through this, Cersei, you’re SO close.”

“It’s not fair though… why do you get parole and I’m stuck here?”

_Because I went to NA every single day I was here, I kept my head down, I didn’t start any fights, I didn’t cuss out every guard and prisoner who looked at me funny, I just did my job in the laundry room while you and Yara Greyjoy ran a prison wide drug smuggling operation._

“I don’t know why I get out early and you didn’t. But you’ll get out soon, and then we can have a life together. You and me.” He leaned in closer, his voice that low roar Jaime knew she liked. “We’re the only ones that matter. That was true the day we were born and it’s true now…”

He touched his stump to the lion tattoo on his chest and, after a moment coupled with a heavy sigh, Cersei did the same to her lioness, a way to connect with one another even if they couldn’t hold one another.

After they said their goodbyes and Tyrion promised to pick him up at 9 AM tomorrow, Jaime made his way back to his cell for the last time.

It was plain white stone walls on three sides and metal bars in front of him. Only a few photos of Cersei and one of him and Tyrion decorated the near his bunk. He had a desk that held a small personal radio and a cheap set of earphones, a shelf that he held his basic personal hygiene products and uniforms, a toilet/sink combination and that was it.

That had been his whole life the past two and a half years, a slow monotonous life of waking up at 5:00 AM, working out in his cell, showering, eating breakfast that never once shifted from its five day menu, working in the laundry room, lunch, going out to the yard and working out there, Narcotics Anonymous, dinner, MORE working out in his cell, a shower and then finally sleep.

The same boring routine every single day, disrupted only on visitors day every other Saturday. But it had kept his mind off needles and drugs that was FAR more easy to get in prison then Jaime would have thought, he didn’t have an hour of downtime, he didn’t have any time to get into trouble, to get to know people other than the other workers in the laundry who, thankfully, weren’t looking for any more drama then he was.

Jaime wasn’t allowed to start out-processing until tomorrow so today was spent the same as all the others, except with the added variation of the cook, a large young man the men’s prison hired to be its main chef they all called ‘Hot Pie’, giving him a large homemade chocolate strawberry cream filled cupcake for his dessert that night, the same he did to all those who were spending their last night. It wa so big that Jaime ended up splitting it with his laundry mates; an older blonde man named Jorah Mormont who was in five years for human trafficking, and then a sweet shy cowardly fat boy called Samwell Tarly who was doing a nine month bid for stealing antiqued manuscripts and books from the Citidel University museum. Jorah actually managed to get a hold of a bottle of Red Arbor wine for the occasion and the three of them toasted quietly, in the empty space behind the dryers, to never having to see Jaime ever again.

The next morning he awoke bright and early with a smile on his face for the first time in 2 and a half years. The hours crawled by. He worked out, showered, ate breakfast, said his goodbyes to his friends in NA, said his goodbyes to Jorah and Sam (who he gave his little personal radio to), and then by eight thirty he was in out-processing giving back his uniforms, signing all the necessary paperwork, and finally, after years of waiting, was handed back the suit he wore to court that last day.

It was three sizes too small and reeked of age and mis-use so the guard, Gendry of all people who really did turn out to be an alright guy and to this day didn’t understand why he had been transferred to the men’s side, gave him a pair of his workout shorts and a T-shirt he had in his locker. They were too big but he didn’t complain and rather just said thank you, and then, with a deep breath, at 9:03 AM Dragons Time, Jaime Lannister stepped outside a free man for the first time in years.

Tyrion was already waiting for him in a sleep stylish crimson colored convertible sports car with golden trim and a roaring golden lion on the hood. It had been specially made for him so the petal, brakes and gear shift were raised significantly to where his short stunted legs could reach them without problem, the drivers seat was higher than a normal car so he needed no books or pillows or anything else to see over the dash, and the passenger seat, Jaime noted, sat lower than usual so that for the only time in his life Tyrion was able to look down on others.

“You know that no one else besides us cares about their family sigil anymore right?” Jaime said as he slid into the passenger side. “You don’t see the Tyrells wearing golden roses everywhere anymore.”

“Says the man who has a lion permanently inked on his chest,” Tyrion answered as he shifted into gear and sped out of the prison yard. “Besides our sigil is a golden lion. Golden lions are far cooler than golden roses.”

Jaime didn’t answer. He was too busy looking over his shoulder at the large sprawling stone prison, his heart breaking for the woman he left behind. Tyrion reached over and grabbed his brothers chin and twisted it forward.

“Never look back,” Tyrion told Jaime sternly. “You’re done with that part of your life now.”

“I know. I just feel bad leaving Cersei.”

“She made her own choices.”

“Not all of them,” Jaime grumbled.

“As much as someone in our charming little perfect happy family can.”

Jaime didn’t answer that and rather just sighed and leaned back, enjoying the rush of wind blowing through his hair and the smell of something that wasn’t what he could only describe as ‘prison.’ Hard stone and metal and off-brand unscented cleaning chemicals. Even the yard somehow managed to stink like his cell and the rest of the prison.

“So where am I taking you?” Tyrion asked after a spell. Jaime pulled out a sheet of paperwork he got from out processing and looked at it.

“The halfway house,” he said handing the slip of paper with the address in it. Then tomorrow I need to meet with my parole officer…” He groaned loudly and threw his head back as he read the name on the other paper they gave him for the first time. “Sansa Stark.”

Tyrion bit his lip. Even he knew not to joke or make a comment at that.

“I’ll try to get you transfered,” his younger brother offered quickly. “It’s not fair to you that your PO is the sister of-.”

“I’m well aware how unfair it is,” Jaime said stiffly, thrusting the paper back in the manilla envelope. He sighed, running a hand through golden hair. “You might as well take me back to jail now. If I’m even a minute late for our meeting she’s going to tell the court I’m violating my parole.”

“It was three years ago, maybe she’s forgiven you. It’s possible,” Tyrion added when Jaime raised a brow at him. “Besides the boy lived, he still has his mind...”

“I made him a cripple.”

“You made yourself one as well. He lost the use of your legs, you lost your hand… fairs fair I say.”

“Fair would have been if I went to jail for the crash rather then let father cover it all up.”

Tyrion pursed his lips as he turned down the street where his brothers halfway house was at, a crowded dirty street on Gin Alley. “You paid with your hand, with your body, your soul, two and a half years of jail and you’re going to be living in a halfway house in some slum for the next six months.” He pulled to a stop outside of a decrepit looking building with bars on the bottom sets of windows. “You paid for your crimes Jaime.”

_You and Cersei have more in common then you think… And no I haven’t._

Jaime said nothing after that, just thanked his younger brother who surprised him with a large duffel bag full of clothes that would fit the taller Lannister complete with suits for work, lounge clothes, work out clothes, jeans and T-shirt’s and jackets, briefs, big fluffy towels, shoes and sleep-wear. He also thought to get Jaime his favorite, and expensive, bodywash, shaving cream, cologne, shampoo, toothpaste, mouthwash and all the other non-generic hygiene products he wasn’t allowed to have behind bars. Tyrion also gave him a top of the line smartphone that he had put on his own plan and was ready to go the moment he turned it on.

He had never loved his brother more.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your PO appointment?” Tyrion asked, and Jaime confirmed with a nod. The two men hugged and then, when a deep breath, Jaime walked inside the halfway house.

The first floor was unfurnished except for a small desk, an uncomfortable wooden bench, a single dim light source, and then off to the side what looked like a dining area. It was clean, but it was obvious that the people cleaning it had done the bare minimum to keep it that way.

The man sitting at the desk that was covered in files and a small 12 inch TV that was playing a football game, the Casterly Rock Lions was ahead of the Winterfell Direwolves by two touchdowns and a field goal, was an older man with salt and pepper hair and beard. Jaime approached the desk and when the man looked up he noticed dark hazel eyes.

“You Jaime Lannister?” the man asked with a thick Fleabottom accent. He nodded and the man stood, offering his left hand which Jaime was grateful for. Not many men had the courtesy to do so and some plain forgot that he only had a stump where his right hand was.

“I’m Davos Seaworth, I run this establishment,” the man said rather briskly. “Pick up your bag, follow me, and I’ll explain the rules.”

Without waiting for even half a moment Davos came up from behind the desk and was already halfway across the room before Jaime could even grab his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulders, tucking in his paperwork under his right arm.

He appreciated it when people assumed a one handed man didn’t need assistance but every once in a while, such as when he was carrying a fifty pound duffel bag, a thick envelope of paper work and was trying to hold up the borrowed too big gym shorts, Jaime wished someone would assume he needed help.

“Breakfast is every day at _6:30_ AM, lunch at 12:00, dinner at 6:30, you’re welcome to all meals or none at all, you’re a grown man, no one’s gonna force you to eat free food,” Davos said as he led Jaime up a rickety set of stairs. “There is absolutely no drinking, no drugs, and if you show up drunk or high or I find a single bottle or joint in your room you’re back in prison quicker than you can blink. Understand?”

“I haven’t done drugs in two and a half years,” Jaime grumbled.

“You’ll be added to the cleaning schedule next week,” he continued as if Jaime hadn’t spoken as he led him up even more stairways. “And you WILL do your assigned chores in a timely manner and there is to be no switching or trading off.”

“Got it.”

“Nor will you spend your days lounging about. You’ll either be at work, at school, or looking for work.”

“I already have a job lined up, I’m working for my father’s company.”

“Good. You’re going to be giving copies of your paystubs to me and to your PO. Who's your parole officer by the way?”

“Sansa Stark.”

Davos froze for a moment and looked back at him with a look of pity. “Gods save ya.”

“Thanks,” Jaime said dryly.

Davos continued walking again. “You and your roommate are to keep your room neat and tidy, you’re to keep yourself bathed, and you’re going to wash your clothes. No ones gonna be stinking up the place while I’m here. Showers and bathrooms are at the end of the hall, laundry room is in the basement.”

Davos stopped in front of a door and, without even knocking he opened the door to Jaime’s home for the next six months.

It was a great deal bigger then his cell, and had old half rotten wooden floors, dark colored wooden floors where one half of the room was covered in risqué photos of women and the other half bare. There were two bed stands, two closets, one full of rumpled unfolded clothes the other empty save for the hangers. Neither one had a door.

The beds were twins, a little bit larger than the one he had in prison and two square windows on each side.

One of the beds was as empty as the closet and on the other laid a man with his arms behind his head and lounged out on the bed, the largest, tallest ugliest man Jaime had ever see. Half of his face was just ugly twisting raised burn scars, there was only a hole where his ear had been, and the side that wasn’t burned looked harder than steel. His hair was dark and scraggly and long and his brown eyes were cold and mean, watching the same football game that Davos had been watching earlier on a small TV at the foot of his bed.

The burned man looked over at Jaime and Davos, raising his brow. “The fuck do you want?” he asked, his voice as rough as the rest of him.

“This charming man is named Sandor Clegane,” Davos introduced him, ignoring the brass greeting. “Although he prefers to go by the lovely moniker ‘The Hound’. Clegane, this is your new roommate Jaime Lannister.”

“Hello,” Jaime greeted with a nod of his head.

“Fuck off.” The Hound turned back to his game. “Rich namby pamby cunt…”

“Oh I can see we’re going to get along fabulously,” Jaime said, earning a snort of laughter from the man standing beside him.

“Aye, looks like it. Lights off at 10:00, you're to be back here no later than 8:00 PM and you’re not to leave any earlier than 7:00 AM. That clear?”

“Crystal.”

The older man clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome on the Onion House, Jaime Lannister.”

With a friendly nod Davos turned and left him alone. Jaime wasted no time in dragging his duffel bag to his closet and began putting away his clothes, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw a cheap cotton crimson T-shirt with a golden lion on the front of it, a novelty item from the Casterly Rock museum that housed a great deal of Westerlands artifacts from the Targaryen age and even further back.

Of course Tyrion would include that for him.

Jaime slipped out of the gym shorts and too big T-shirt Gendry lent him and slipped into a comfortable fleece pair of pajama pants and the lion shirt and, after he put away all of of his hygiene products and taped up the photos of him and his siblings, he sank back into the bed. The only sounds were the distant sirens and the low sounds of the football game on The Hounds television.

Finally the silence became too unbearable so he turned to his roommate who hadn’t even looked at him once apart from that first time. “So what are you in for?” Jaime asked him.

“Fuck off, Lannister.”

“I didn’t realize ‘fuck of Lannister’ was a crime.”

The burned man turned towards him slowly. “You wanna suck my dick? Is that it?”

Jaime blinked. “No thank you.”

The Hound gave a snort of laughter before he turned back to the game on his tv. “Assault, battery, attempted murder.”

Jaime nodded slowly. “Different men?”

“Just the one.” He took a drink of something that was in a Dragons Sods bottle but looked far too dark to be soda. “Fucker tried to hurt my girl.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Daughter,” he grunted, taking another drink of the Not-soda soda.

“You have a daughter?” Another grunt. “What’s her name?”

“None of your fucking business, Lannister.”

“That’s an odd name. Must be a family name.”

He swore he saw the corners of his lips turned upwards for a moment but it was gone before Jaime could be sure. After a long moment the Hound spoke a single name. “Arya.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get anything more from his roommate, Jaime leaned back against his pillow and got out the phone Tyrion gave him and opened his search engine, if only to give him something to do.

He pursed his lips for a long moment, debating if he should do something he wanted to do for the past two and a half years. It was wrong, he knew it, almost borderline stalkerish if truth be told. But nearly every night for the past almost three years he dreamed of her, he thought about her nearly once a day, and he knew absolutely nothing about the woman who saved him, other than her name.

So, with a shaking breath and telling himself that a simple search wasn’t REALLY stalking material, Jaime typed in the name that had been on his mind for nearly the past three years.

“Brienne Tarth, Kingslanding PD.”

Jaime swallowed hard, pressed enter, and began to read.

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	3. Brienne I

Brienne Ofilia Tarth hated to run.

She was fast, far faster than a woman of her size had a right to be, but she very much preferred to use her size and strength to take down a suspect rather than speed.

But what she REALLY hated was running when she didn’t need to. If a suspect booked it when she approached them or she saw a crime in process and they took off when they saw her, of course she would give chase without complaint. But if she didn’t need to run like when, for example, her rookie partner was supposed to be watching the front of the store and he instead wandered around to the side of the building for Gods know what reason and the man took off, that's when she got pissed.

“Suspect heading west on Steel Street!” she yelled into the radio latched onto her shoulder, her arms and legs pumping as fast as she could make them go. The hot burning in her lungs was growing more painful by the second as she followed the man down an alley, leaping over an overturned trash can. The man in front of her sprinted out of the mouth of the alley and she was right behind him matching him step for step.

He grabbed hold of an innocent passerbuyer and flung her backwards towards the cop who caught the stunned woman easily, steadying her on her feet.

“You alright?” Brienne asked, barely waiting for a nod of confirmation before she was off again. 

Her feet pounded against the pavement, each breath a heavy grunt. Just as she feared she was about to fall back, it happened; a tiny almost barely noticeable stumble. But it was enough for Brienne to catch up after breaking into a dead sprint. With a loud yell she launched herself at the man, the two of them crashing to the sidewalk together in a whirlwind of arms, legs, sweat and curses. 

The man under her reached for the knife she knew he had in his pocket but before he could grasp its handle Brienne managed to get him on his stomach and pull his arms behind his back, the silver switch blade falling from his hand onto the sidewalk.

“What’s your name?” Brienne demanded as she cuffed him

“Piss off!” the man underneath her spat.

“That’ll be an odd one to put on the report.” After double checking her cuffs she hoisted him to his feet and as gently as her anger would allow slammed him against a wall, running her large hands over him and pulling out another flick knife and wallet. “Karl Tanner,” she read the name on the ID before putting both knives and the wallet in her own pocket for processing later. “You are under arrest for the attempted rape of Meera Reed.”

“I didn’t hurt no one!”

“Then why’d you run?”

“Shut it! I can piss in any gutter and soak five of you, ya big ugly whore!”

Brienne ignored the insult and, with more strength then was necessary, she wrenched him free of the wall and began the long walk back to her squad car. When she and the prisoner left the mouth of the alley, another cop came running up the sidewalk gasping for breath with sweat running down his brow.

“Good… good job,” the other cop wheezed, needing to rest against the brick wall for support. “I was- I was right behind you, I-.”

“Why didn’t you stay out front like I told you to?” she barked at the rookie. 

“I-... there- there was a noise,” he gasped, gulping down air greedily. “Down the alley-.”

“He was IN the store, Podrick! There’s only two ways in or out; the back, which I had covered, and the front where YOU were supposed to be watching! He wouldn’t have had a chance to run if you had stayed at your bloody post!”

It was in the dead of summer, it was reaching ninety degrees, she was in full uniform, and had just ran half a mile in a dead sprint. Brienne was in no mood to coddle her partner, especially not one as inept as Podrick Payne. He was out of the academy for a whopping 3 months, and had already been passed around by four different officers by the time they stuck him with Brienne.

That was where all the officers nobody wanted ended up. The rejects, the layabouts, the burnouts who preferred napping in the squad car to actually doing anything… Being stuck with her was their punishment as much hers. 

Tywin Lannister had been the biggest beneficiary to the Kingslanding PD. New equipment, new uniforms, new cars, all the positive press they could ask for while all the negative news was swept under the rug… He freely gave them anything the force wanted. All they had to do was turn a blind eye to Jaime and Cersei’s misgivings which they usually did with a smile on their lips and an eager ‘yes sir’ on their tongue. Those that needed a bit more convincing ended up wealthier or blackmailed, depending on which one was more likely to yield results. Occasionally even a family member might end up hurt by some ‘tragic accident’ but either way the golden Lannister twins always managed to get away.

Until Brienne Tarth and her partner were craving burgers one night during their shift that is.

After the arrest Brienne had been bribed and threatened, even accosted one night by a man with a knife. The assaulter ended up in the hospital with thirty three stitches, his jaw wired shut, a broken collarbone, two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder while she walked away with nothing more than two bruised and broken fists and blood on her shoes.

He swore up and down half a hundred times he was drunk and went after her on his own with no prompting from anyone but Brienne didn’t believe it. The day after the assault the Lannister twins plead guilty and the threats of violence and envelopes of money on her doorstep that she always left where she found it came to a sudden halt.

Her fellow ‘honorable’ brother officers treated her as if she had the grey plague. She had not been well loved beforehand, she was too honorable and obedient, too good at a job mainly held by men, too strong, too tall, too ugly… but they had a grudging respect for her skills that outpaced theirs. Until she was the reason why they weren’t gifted new tasers from Tywin, until they were stuck using crappy coffee makers opposed to expensive cappuccino machines that Tywin took back the day after they were arrested, until there was no one to pay off whoever needed to be paid off to hide the fact that Officer Slynt raped a 16 year old girl in lockup.

It was all Briennes fault, and they all hated her for it. But what hurt the most was what Hyle did in the weeks that followed. He was a man that she thought respected her, who was kind to her, and decent and invited her out to drinks with him and the other boys. She knew it was because of who her father was, and he made no bones about pretending otherwise, but at least he was honest about it and for a while she actually thought there might have been something between them.

But then he destroyed her in a way she didn’t know he was capable of and didn’t even had the courage to face her afterwards, putting in for a partner transfer the day after and she had been stuck with the rejects and burnouts since. 

Including Podrick Payne.

Pod blushed, stumbling as Brienne pushed Tanner at him, blue eyes glaring furiously at her partner. “Here. You stay with him. I’m going back to get the car.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered but she was already storming off and barely heard him.

By the time she went back for their car, picked up Tanner and Pod, drove them back to the precinct to put their suspect into the system, it was reaching the end of their shift. 

Brienne changed out of her uniform and into her street clothes, a pair of jeans and a simple dark blue T-shirt, ignoring the rest of the female officers who were all laughing and talking about their plans to go out for drinks as if Brienne wasn’t in the same room. Even before she was ostracized for what everyone called ‘the twin debacle’ she never really belonged, not to this group anyway… Truth be told she never belonged anywhere.

She made her way through the precinct, her head down and eyes cast at the floor, and out to the garage where she was parked.

“What are you doing here?” Brienne sighed when she caught sight of Pod pacing nervously in front of her car. The younger officer turned to look at her. “Go home, Podrick.”

“I was- I am, I just-... I wanted to apologize,” he sputtered our nervously. “I know I messed up, but I will get better, Sergeant.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said flatly. “I’m not a sergeant.”

“You were.”

“And now I’m not.” 

Podrick nodded. “Right, yes o- of course, Sergeant. Officer. But I meant what I said, I will get better. Today was just an off day.”

“You seem to have quite a few of those.”

He bowed his head and Brienne, despite her annoyance for the boy standing before her, started to feel sorry for him. It wasn’t his fault he was stuck with her as a punishment, it wasn’t his fault she had been penalized for doing the right thing…

“Look… just… do what I tell you to do okay?” she told him as gently as her exasperation would allow. “Despite everything you’ve heard, I’m not going to steer you wrong, Podrick. I tell you to do things for a reason.”

“I know,” he said quickly. 

“If I tell you to approach a car on the passenger side so the driver can’t grab you, approach a car on the passenger side. If I tell you not to draw your weapon unless you mean to take someone’s life because it can be taken away from you, don’t draw your weapon. If I tell you to guard the door of a storefront so he can’t run, then guard the door of a storefront.”

“I will. I’ll listen to everything you say from now on, Sergeant. Officer.” 

He sounded so confident that Brienne almost,  _ almost,  _ believed him. 

The blonde gave him a curt nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night, Podrick.”

“You too, Sergeant. Officer.”

Without sparing her partner another glance she got into her car and drove off, stopping not at her apartment, but instead at a bar near her building where her friend Sansa Stark asked the tall cop to meet after her shift. Brienne saw the stern faced redhead almost as soon as she walked into the bar, ‘True North’, sitting in the corner of the building quietly nursing a vodka and cranberry.

It was a small quiet dimly lit local watering hole with a few tables and mismatched wooden ladder back unvarnished chairs while the barstools was covered ripped black colored pleather. There were several pool tables that needed its felt replaced and a dart board with half the tips missing from the darts, the floors were made of dark wood and your shoes always seemed to stick to the floorboards. Several shelves of lower priced liquor were stored over the back of a scratched cherry wood bar, stained and sticky from spilled ale and liquor that the owner never seemed to clean up no matter how many complaints she got. 

On the wall there were posters of scantily clad smiling women holding cold frothy mugs of beer, electric signs with half the neon out, Direwolf brand Motorcycle posters with busty models in bikinis on the back of large beastly black and grey and white machines, and several old frayed political posters encouraging people to vote Mance Rayder, one of the fiercest Wildling advocates the country of Westeros had ever seen, for President.

It was not a place Brienne would have frequented at all had it not been for the fact that she and Sansa were given free drinks whenever they stopped by (of course most times Brienne only ordered a seltzer and only actually  _ drank _ drank every couple of months so her drinks would have been free anyway but it was still a nice gesture.)

Ygritte Wyld, the owner of ‘True North’ had dated Sansa’s half-brother Jon but a few weeks into the relationship the barkeep decided she liked the cold leggy red head far more that her short brooding brother and the two had been going strong for a while. She was also the best friend of Briennes on again/off again boyfriend/friend with benefits Tormund Giantsbane and even during the ‘off’ stages she seemed to side with the cop more than her bearded accomplice.

Brienne nodded to Sansa when she approached the sullen looking red head, looking even unemotional and void of feelings than usual. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked the parole officer as she took a seat beside her, taking a sip of the seltzer Sansa had thought to order for her. 

“No,” she said flatly, taking another long drink from her glass. Sansa ran her finger around the rim of her glass, looking down at the scratches in the faded wood. “He’s out of prison.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” Sansa drank heavily from the glass. “Jaime Lannister.” 

Brienne's big blue eyed went as wide as dinner plates. “Jaime Lannister? THE Jaime Lannister? He has six months left on his sentence.”

“Parole board seems to think he rehabilitated himself and deserved an early release. They thought he changed.” Sansa scoffed into her crimson colored drink. “Like a bloody monster like that could change.”

Brienne reached out and placed a large calloused hand over Sansa’s. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I truly am, Sansa. I know what he did to your family.”

The redhead smiled, unnerving the tall blonde. It wasn’t often that Sansa smiled, or really showed much emotion at all. She preferred to appear impassive, stolid to the point of causing a bit of discomfort amongst those who didn’t know why the tall woman wore such an unpainted mask.

“It’s fine. I’ll have him back in jail before the end of the week.”

“What do you mean?”

Her grin grew wider. “I’m his parole officer.” She took a sip of her drink. “Totally random selection, I assure you.”

“I‘m sure,” Brienne said flatly. “But look I hate Jaime Lannister as much as you do and I’m forever grateful I arrested him no matter what the cost but Sansa, you can’t… you can’t abuse your position. It isn’t-.”

“It isn’t what? It isn’t fair? It isn’t honorable? Jaime Lannister crippled my brother for life. He broke my father’s leg in three places because he decided to drive drunk that night and he got away with it because his father flashed some money around. That’s what’s not fair. Him getting out six months early isn’t fair. You losing your promotion and being ostracized because of what you did for me, that isn’t fair.”

It was an old argument between them. One that Brienne was sick and tired of and, to be sure, offended the blonde that her friend thought that little of her honor. 

“I did not arrest him because of what he did to your family, nor did I do it to satisfy your revenge,” Brienne said sharply. “You know that, Sansa. He assaulted an officer and had drugs and paraphernalia in his pocket. That’s why I arrested him, not because of what he did to your brother.”

Sansa just shrugged, taking a sip of her drink and Brienne huffed. “Either way, he was put away for a few years and now he’s out.” Another drink and a sharp smug smile. “But not for long…”

“I can’t be privy to this.” Brienne quickly stood up from the chair. “If you’re going to set him up-.”

“I’m not going to set anyone up, Brienne, relax. I’m going to hold Lannister to as strict a standard as I do my other parolees, I’m not going to give him any special treatment.” Brienne eyed her old friend cautiously. “That’s what you would do right? That’s why you arrested him, you didn’t bend any rules just because he’s a Lannister. I’m just going to do the same thing that you did.” 

“You swear you won’t set him up for failure?”

“To the Old Gods and the New. Now come on.” Sansa pat the top of the sticky bartop. “Tell me about your new partner.”

The conversation flowed easier after that, as did the alcohol, with even Brienne slowly sipping a half tumbler of northern brandy over the course of two hours. Afterwards the parole officer and cop both went their separate ways. Since Ygritte wasn’t tending bar that night Sansa didn’t stick around and rather went back to her brownstone in Red Keep and Brienne went back to her one room apartment in Rivers Row; a more upscale part of Kingslanding to be sure but not as lustrous as the part of the city where Sansa lived.

The apartment was mostly bare but still a pleasant enough space. The sofa and chair were deep blue leather and the coffee table was a dark cherry red. A bookshelf full to the brim sat beside her fairly meager entertainment system while photos of her and her father, her and Sansa, her siblings and mother long since passed, her best friend and crush from high school Renly Baratheon, even one of her and Tormund decorated her wall in white wooden frames. Her kitchen was small and cramped and hardly used while her bedroom held a plain oak dresser, a bed stand with a lamp and not much else. A framed poster of Tarth's sapphire waters hung on her bedroom wall and nearly every night before she drifted off to sleep Brienne would stare at it and remember home. 

The tall knight groaned as her phone started ringing the moment she latched and locked the door behind her.

“Hello.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day and I’m hard as fuck.”

Brienne rolled her eyes as she flopped down on her couch. “Why don’t you ever start a conversation with ‘how was your day’ or ‘seen any good movies lately’?”

“Ooh, did my big woman have a bad day?”

She bristled at the response. “Don’t call me that, you know I hate that nickname.”

“But you are my big woman. My big amazing perfect woman with great big long legs and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to use my name.”

“If you invite me over tonight I’ll use your name over and over… I’ll scream it in fact, to all the Gods, yours and mine. And you’ll be screaming mine too…”

Another roll of her eyes as she pulled the blanket on the back of her couch over herself. “You’re disgusting, Tormund.”

“And that’s why you like me.” She could hear the smile on his bearded face and in spite of herself she felt herself smile back. “Because I do disgusting things to your nice tight pink twat and those perfect little perky tits. So…”

“So what?” she asked coyly, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“Can I come over?”

Brienne sighed, glancing at her watch. It was nearing ten a clock and today had been a rather long day and what she really wanted was a long hot soak in her tub with a bath bomb that reminded her of the sweet smells of her island, of the blue oceans and palm trees and flowers that only grew on Tarth.

A long time ago before Westeros was a democracy, in the days of knights and dragons and castles, Brienne's family had actually owned the isle she called home. Her family were lords and ladies, kings and queens, she had even been named for the first ever woman knight from the Targaryen age. Even today she and her father were the wealthiest people on the small little island and where a castle had supposedly stood now housed the fairly sizeable mansion she grew up in right on the edge of the water.

“Well?” Tormund asked again, breaking her out of her memories. “Yes or no, Blue eyes?”

She sighed again, looking at her watch again as if to confirm the late time. “If you’re quick about it.”

With a promise that he would be over there quicker than she could even blink he hung up and Brienne sighed, already regretting her decision as she stood up from the couch and began making coffee. 

She went into her bathroom after and dabbed on a splash of perfume behind her ear and dotted the floral scene between her breasts and between her sex, swished a capful of mouthwash around, exchanged her shirt and jeans and normal everyday work undergarments for a deep grey silk teddy trimmed with black lace, a gift from Tormund that she always hated wearing. It wasn’t her, she didn’t enjoy the feeling of silk against her skin, she didn’t like how she felt when she wore the lingerie… but Tormund wouldn’t hear an argument and asked for her to wear it often enough that she now just wore it whenever she knew he was coming over rather he asked for it beforehand or not.

Before the pot had even finished brewing there was a heavy familiar knock at her door. Taking a deep breath, Brienne smoothed out the silk teddy and answered the door to ginger on boyfriend/friend with benefits/ex, granting him one of the three titles depending on what mood she was in that day. Sometimes he was one, sometimes he was another, some days he was even all three all at once.

Today he had shown up with a smirk on his hard chiseled face, his hair and beard as wild and red as ever. His pale blue eyes leered at her, the possessive lust-filled look in his eyes bringing a blush to her skin that traveled all the way down her neckline.

“You… are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, Blue eyes.”

“So you’ve said.” 

She tried to make herself sound lusty, seductive but her voice wobbled a bit too much for that. Tormund walked over to her, a swagger that was almost comical, and she backed up until she was against the wall and he was pressing up against her. The red head was tall, near as tall as she was, but he still had to look up at her. He put his hands around her waist and then he was kissing her, not even bothering with asking how her day was. 

Brienne told herself that was fine. Truly

She was used to it. That was why she invited the large man into her bed in the first place. She could make conversation with Sansa or Ygritte, even Pod. But no other man looked at her the way Tormund had, even if at first it did disgust her. It was her ‘otherness’ he wanted, her tallness, her broadness, her legs that were as long as life. She was even reluctant to call what he wanted ‘lust’. It was a fetish what Tormund felt for her.  _ She _ was his fetish.

But, tonight and all the nights before, she convinced herself she was fine with that. Truly.

Brienne led him into her bedroom and she let him lay her down on her mattress while chapped lips placed rough kisses on her long neck, behind her ear, on her big lips… His calloused fingers rubbed between her legs, drawing a trickling of moisture from her and she forced herself to moan as he climbed on top of her, throwing her head back as if he was bringing her to ecstasy. 

“I love when your cunt gets wet for me,” he grunted in her ear, his other hand cupping her breast, squeezing and twisting his hand like he was turning a doorknob.

“Only you,” she moaned, pulling his shirt off and letting her long fingers run over his hairy broad chest.

For all his faults, no one could ever tell Tormund he wasn’t strong.

Brienne could already feel him straining against his jeans as she reached down and undid his belt and jeans, yanking them down. He was average sized, a little bit rounder than most and the base was covered in thick course red curls. Brienne began stroking him soft and slow at first, letting his groans the way he thrust into her hand guide how fast or slow or tight or loose she gripped and stroked him. 

His hand was between her legs again, and she whimpered when he pushed in one finger, and then another, twisting and curling them inside her. Tormund kissed her again, shoving his tongue in her mouth and having it dance a dance that was too fast and too jerky for her to really enjoy it.

But that was fine. Truly. 

“I love fucking you,” he growled as he hiked up the teddy before his hands dug into her thighs as he spread them. He pushed her hand away and took himself in his own hand, guiding it inside her, entering her with a loud grunt. Brienne wrapped her legs around him and her short nails dug into his back as he thrust inside her, grunting and gasping noisily while she moaned and whimpered and gasped his name and did all the things she knew he liked her to do. 

He would kiss her lips, bury his hand in her short hair and tug at it, thrust and moan and grunt like a sow while he fucked her. At one point he actually licked the full length of her neck and she started to pull away but he gripped her face in his hand and held her there.

Finally, long after Brienne had even given up pretending to enjoy the mediocrity, he came inside her, roaring her name to the heavens and collapsed on top of her, panting in her ear like a dog as he emptied the last spurts of his seed inside her.

He didn’t even ask her if she had cum when he finally rolled off her, exhausted. 

But she was fine with that. Truly.

Brienne turned to her side and he wrapped his long strong arms around her and nuzzles against her neck that he had dotted with wet sloppy marks. 

“You’re the best fuck I ever had, blue eyes,” he muttered sleepily.

Brienne said nothing, just stared at the photo on the wall of Tarths waters and, as she felt Tormund’s seed drip onto her sheets, she told herself that this was fine. The sex was fine, Tormund was fine, SHE was fine...

Truly.

Please Review!


	4. Brienne II/Cersei I

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the redhead on her couch, eating her cereal and watching the early morning sports report analyzing the Direwolves and Lions game from the other night.

“I’m red faced and sweating like a pig.”

“Still hot.”

Despite her best efforts the corner of her lips tugged up.

“You remember to lock up?” he asked as he turned back to the TV. 

She tossed him a set of keys that he caught one handed without turning away from the screen. “You need to replace your shoulder presses,” she told him. “The cables are about three reps away from snapping.”

Tormund owned a gym in Fleabottom that he named simply ‘Giantsbane. It was large enough that you weren’t left wanting with equipment or machines but not a franchise so it wasn’t too crowded. 

That was how they met actually. Brienne went to her precincts gym which was far nicer and convenient then Tormunds but the first time Tywin Lannister refused to use his pull to get Internal Affairs to back off an officer accused of assault, she found herself having to wait impossibly long wait times for the machines, the free weights were never open, and the open refusals to spot her made what supposed to be a relaxing workout too insufferable so she looked for a new gym and found Giantsbane.

The gym wasn’t necessary cop friendly, nor was its owner. Tormund had a large poster in his office of dead crow, ‘crow’ being an offensive Wildling term for the police up North, he was heavily involved in police-reform protests, and he always had a dirty look to share for most cops he passed, sans Brienne. When he first saw her working out, he had been totally enamored with the tall blonde and it was lust at first sight. Tormund was so obsessed with her that he told her he knew she was ‘different then the rest of the crows’ while wearing a ‘Fuck Crows’ T-shirt the first time she told him she was an officer.

He constantly talked to her during her workouts, her cool downs, her cardio days even when she made it clear she wanted peace and quiet to the point he once even took the incitive to take her headphones out mid-song so he could tell her how attractive he found her that day. She had done a fair job of ignoring him until one particular bad day of work where one of the rookies actually broke into her locker, took her service weapon and hid it on her as a ‘joke’, and her captain teamed HER out for misplacing, and she stormed out of her precinct, drove to the gym where she knew the large wildling would be in his office, stormed in, slammed the door shut, kissed him hard, and let him fuck her right there on the crowded desk, just wanting something to help her forget the shitty turn her life had taken, even for a few minutes.

The ‘one and only’ time turned into another, and then another, and another until finally they more or less had an unofficial offial relationship of sorts. Plus, if nothing else, Brienne didn’t have to pay for a gym membership.

She threw her wallet down on the table. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready yourself ready?”

“I am ready,” he said with a mouthful of Oat Rings and milk. “Showered, shitted, shaved…”

Brienne snorted as put her jacket on the back of her chair. Beneath she wore a pair of dark blue exercise capris and a matching latex tank top with a rose colored sports bra that she didn’t really need. “You’ve never shaved a day in your life.”

“Have so!” Another bite of cereal. “I was 13 years old. It was a dark and dreary Thursday.” Tormund finally glanced over at her, pale blue eyes looking over her body in her tight exercise clothes. He licked his lips and she rolled her eyes again, resisting the urge to pull back on her jacket. 

“I gotta shower if I wanna get my coffee before work,” Brienne told him, already knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “I don’t have time.”

Tormund didn’t take his eyes from her. “I’ll be quick.”

“So I’ll be late AND unsatisfied.”

“Oh I’ll satisfy you, blue eyes.” Another large bite of cereal. “I’ll satisfy you all morning.” The milk dribbled down into his red and wild beard and onto her couch.

“Charming,” she said dryly as she headed to her bathroom. “If I go in there and there’s red hair all over my shower drain again-!”

“Relax yourself, blue eyes, I cleaned up!”

For half a moment she might have actually believed him. And then she turned on the light. 

Brienne sighed as she glanced around what had been a neat and tidy bathroom last night. Not only was her shower drain full of course wet ginger hair but the toilet seat was up, her body wash had been knocked over and Tormund hadn’t bothered to pick it up so a small puddle of the expensive product spilled, and his towel was on the floor in a damp heap rather than in the hamper three feet away. Her sink and hair brush was full of red hair and Brienne prayed, she  _ prayed _ , that her toothbrush was just still wet from when she used it this morning before she left for the gym.

“Terrific,” she muttered too soft for him to hear as her eyes took in the mess he promised he wouldn’t leave after she shouted at him last time. Brienne sighed and began picking up the mess he left for her and by the time she was done she barely had time for a quick two minute scrub down much less the long relaxing shower she wanted to work the aches out of her exercised muscles. 

She brushed and slicked her hair back, put on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt, grabbed a fresh uniform as well as her gun belt and headed out to the living room. Tormund already left for the gym and left the now empty bowl on her couch cushion for her to take care of. She rolled her eyes as she picked it up and put it in the sink, thinking she would just wash it tonight.

But the messes Tormund left her was fine. Truly. She still had time to get her coffee if it wasn’t too busy so her day wasn’t completely ruined yet, it was fine.

Truly.

After locking the door behind her Brienne headed down to the garage where she got in the car and drove the two blocks to her favorite coffee spot. It was a small little hole in the wall with little pomp or circumstance surrounding their drinks that was never really crowded even in the early mornings. Plus the coffee tasted a world better than the expensive Dragonbucks chains that had a location every few steps on every block.

“Good morning, Officer Tarth,” the barista behind the counter greeted her with a smile, a pretty and slender Arryn girl named Alys Stone.

Brienne returned the friendly smile with one of her own. “Good morning, Alys. My usual black and then a medium with extra cream and extra sugar please.”

“Coming right up,” Alys told her, taking the cash from the cops hand and depositing it in till. Brienne stepped out of the way and got out her phone, checking her emails and waiting for her name to be called when she felt a presence come up behind her.

“Officer Tarth?” a voice she hadn’t heard in two and a half years called out cautiously, one she unfortunately knew all too well. 

Brienne whipped around, expecting to find the same skinny feeble dirty man she arrested that night in the diner but rather she was quite taken back by the man standing before her. 

Jaime Lannister no longer looked like the poster child for drug addicts with greasy unwashed hair, ragged and stained clothes, sunken dull green eyes and a scarred stump where a hand used to be. Instead he stood proud and tall with a new fitted suit, a freshly shaved face, hair washed and shining golden as the sun, and bright gleaming emerald eyes that were full of light and life. On his right arm was what looked like a very expensive flesh colored prosthetic and the rest of his body was filled out and strong, a world of difference from when he looked like a weak gust of wind could knock him over.

Jaime was apprehensive, gnawing on his bottom lip as he looked at the cop, eyes shining with an unspoken apology. 

Brienne’s hands twitched towards her gun. Unlike the man standing before her, the criminal standing there, she wasn’t nervous. On the contrary, she was angry.

“What are you doing here?” she barked at Jaime. “Why are you here?”

“I- I wanted to talk to you…” His lips fluttered into a nervous smile. “I figured cops would know the best place to get coffee.”

“So you’re stalking me.”

“Wha- no!” He was a terrible liar. “I just, I found you on Facebook and saw you lived on Rivers Row so I googled the best coffee places and I- I saw-.”

She cut him off with words as sharp as the pocket knife on her belt. “Do you know my address?” 

“No! I, I, I just-. I needed to talk to you.”

“You mean threaten me.” 

He had the gall to sound upset. “Are you this distrusting to everyone I meet?”

“To criminals? Yes I am. I’m VERY distrustful, Mr. Lannister, and when I get distrustful, people end up in jail. So if I see you again-.”

He held his hands up as if to prove he wasn’t planning to harm her. “You won’t see me again, I just… I need to tell you something.”

“The only thing I want to hear from you is your footsteps walking out this door. I don’t need to hear threats, or insults, or anything of the like.” She took a step closer, using every bit of authority in her voice and body she possessed. “So I suggest you leave, Mr. Lannister, or I will make you leave.”

Jaime barely flinched at the threat and her anger grew. Who the Hells did he think he was?

“I didn’t come here to fight.” His voice was soft and gentle, and a lesser woman would have swooned at the velvety sound. “I didn’t come here to threaten you or anything of the sort. I came here because I needed to do something. I-... I needed to apologize, Officer Tarth, for my behavior.” He bowed his head, thankfully missing the shocked expression on her face. He was lying. She could tell. A snake like Jaime Lannister would never humble himself, not to the ugly cop who dared to stand up to him. “I never should have gone after you that night, and I- I wanted to make things right. I also-, I wanted-... I wanted-...”

“I arrested you,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“I sent you and your sister to prison for three years.”

“I’m well aware.”

Brienne narrowed her blue eyes in intense distrust and dislike at the one handed man standing before her. Her hand inched towards the gun on her hip. “So what on earth could you possibly want from me?”

“I just… I wanted to tell you…”

“What, Mr. Lannister?”

Jaime took a deep breath before he looked up, emerald eyes meeting sapphires. “I wanted to thank you, Officer Tarth. For saving my life.”

Oh.

Brienne narrowed her eyes at the man standing before him, not in anger but confusion. 

“You’re mocking me.” 

It was something she said to others often, very often, and usually answered with a snigger and a bit back smile. But Jaime looked wounded, genuinely wounded, that she thought this apology was a jest.

“I’m not joking. I-... Prison, it-…” Jaime smiled at her. A true, authentic light beam full of genuine pride. “It got me clean. 917 days, I’m actually on my way to an NA meeting right now. Not a single joint, not a needle, not anything. Prison did that for me,  _ you _ sending me to prison did that to me. So I- I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Brienne looked at him for a moment. He wasn’t lying, she could tell. He was close to bursting with accomplishment, he had meat on his bones, he wasn’t jittery, he wasn’t stammering.. Jaime Lannister was telling the truth. He was actually clean and sober…

“I’m proud of you, Mr. Lannister.” She was telling the truth. His smile grew exponentially. Brienne pursed her lips at the man, speaking another truth that she knew would wipe that grin from his face. “It’s just a shame you couldn’t get sober before you crippled Brandon Stark.”

Jaime’s face fell, any pride, any joy, any burst of light burned away in the fire of her words. He swallowed hard and stared down, shame burning bright. “I-... I wasn’t high, I-.”

“Oh that’s right you were drunk. You drove drunk, and paralyzed a little boy.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” he muttered. His face turned crimson. “I remember what I did, and I’ve apologized to him, to his family-.”

“Oh you apologized?” Her words were harsh and sharp. “You didn’t spend a single day in jail, you didn’t even appear before a judge. Your father threw that Lannister money around and got you away free and clear, and you think an  _ apology  _ makes up for what you’ve done?”

“I lost my hand.” He finally looked up from the floor and met her eyes. “I lost my hand in the crash, I paid every dime of his and his father’s recovery out of my own pocket. I know it was the least I could do-.”

“No, Mr. Lannister, the least you could have done is have spent a minimum of ten years in jail and lose your license for life. Not turn it around so that a sober honorable man was to be blamed because he was giving five under the limit and meanwhile you went fifty over drunk because you were too good to call a cab after you had a few too many,”

The shame turned to anger. He glowered at her. “Listen woman, you don’t understand-!”

“I have a name and title,  _ man.  _ And I understand you ruined that family’s life,” she cut him off. “Brandon Stark will never walk again. Ned Stark had to retire from the force because of the damage you did to his leg. I had to hold my best friend night after night while she SOBBED because of what you put her brother and father through… But you’re going to sit there and tell me  _ I  _ don’t understand?” Alys called her name and Brienne grabbed the two coffees before she looked back at the man brimming with shame and hot with anger. “Congratulations on your sobriety, Mr. Lannister, and if I ever see you again I will arrest you for stalking.” Without sparing him a second glance Brienne turned on the heel of her shoes and walked out.

Bloody bastard. Bloody stupid bastard, who the hell did he think he was? He destroyed her best friend's family, he ruined a little boys life and he got away with it because he was the son of one of the richest men in the country. 

Gods she hated him. More than anyone else she ever arrested. He was nothing more than a smug, snarky rich pretty boy who got away with not only what he did to the Starks but everything that befell Brienne after she arrested him. He was probably the one who sent the assassin after her, who blackmailed Hunt to get him lie to Internal Affairs, who was behind getting her demoted. He was probably lying about his sobriety too and just said that to the parole board to get out a few months early.

By the time she got to work she had to take several deep breaths to calm herself down less she take it out on her partner who was waiting for her bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to work. “Morning, Sergeant- Officer,” Podrick greeted her with a beaming smile. He seemed determined to make up for his mistakes yesterday.

“Good morning, Podrick.” She handed him the sugar and cream loaded coffee. “I’m going to get changed and then we can get going.”

“I’ll be here waiting.”

Brienne headed to the locker room and infamous locker 318. It’s hinges were all but rusted shut and there was always an odd smell that came from it no matter how much air freshener she sprayed and she had to buy her own sturdy heavy duty lock for it because the flimsy one they gave her kept ‘mysteriously’ getting broken.

After she got changed and put her street clothes and purse into the locker she checked herself in the mirror, biting back a sigh as she grabbed where her sergeant's stripes were previously sown on. She worked so hard for her promotion, she worked twice as hard as any male in the force, and when she was named not only the youngest woman who was promoted to the rank of sergeant but the youngest officer ever, she had been so proud. Her father even flew in all the way from Tarth to watch the ceremony.

She had it for a year, the respect, the honor, the rank she earned through her blood sweat and tears and was well on her way to becoming a captain before her tenth year on the force until Hunt got hungry one night and decided to go for burgers… 

Brienne shook away the self-pity and bitterness and straightened out and walked out with her head held high. She would get her stripes back soon. She would have too, they couldn’t hold a grudge forever.

Right?

She turned the corner and nearly ran into her Captain, a hard faced man named Randyll Tarly. 

“Watch it, Tarth.” Tarly spoke in a harsh voice, leaving no room for argument or debate.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she apologized, a bit of flush rising to her cheeks. “I should have watched where I was going.”

“Yes you should have.” His cold grey eyes were hard and mean. “I need you to take inventory.”

Inventory. Something the lowest rookie on the totem pole did once a year, a boring miserable dusty dirty job where you counted all the laptops, cell phones, radios, weapons and the like that someone who had once been a sergeant had no right being told to do. It was boring mind numbing work that meant at least three night shifts in a row, and if you were a day shift worker like she was without getting time off, and she doubted Tarly was willing to give her such, it would mean 72 hours straight at work with only quick naps in the car during lunch breaks.

Brienne has no problem putting in her time when she was a rookie and she did it without complaint when she fresh out of the academy.

But an eight year veteran on the force? 

“Sir, I-... I’m working today and tomorrow and the day after that,” she explained. “I don’t have a problem with it, but if I do inventory during the night shift I-.”

“You’ll be doing your bloody job, Tarth, something I pay you to do and not very well mind you,” he snapped and her cheeks burned brighter than ever. “But lemme guess; you’re on your period or you have a date or some other excuse women use to get out of doing work.”

She bowed her head, the blush now relent all the way down to her meager chest. “I’ll- I’ll do the inventory, Sir,” she muttered. “I’ll put in my overtime slip with the clerk as soon as I get back tonight.”

“Good,” said Tarly. He shook his head. “I swear to the Mother, Tarth, if it wasn’t for your father being such a good officer I would have tossed you out on your ass years ago. I still should, to be honest, you bring in too much drama into my squad room.”

She said nothing, just kept her head bowed as he walked away, purposely slamming into her as he passed. Brienne took a deep shaking breath, shocking her head and walked out to where Podrick was waiting for her. He cocked his head to the side when he saw her.

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’m fine, Podrick.” Brienne took a deep breath and smoothed out her starched and ironed uniform top. “Are you ready to go?”

When he nodded she led him out to the garage and got out her keys. She groaned as she felt the sun beat down on the two of them. It was going to be a hot day and their assigned car had no air conditioner. The desk sergeant, a sleazy greasy man named Janos Slynt, assured her the paperwork had been sent in for repairs but the city was just taking its time. When she asked for a replacement car for the time being he just told her with a snake oil smile that there was none available.

The moment the car was on Brienne and Pod both lowered the windows and she could tell her partner was trying hard not to show just how hot he really was and guilt stabbed at her. It was her fault he had to deal with this heat.

“We’ll stop and get some ice coffees before our shift,” she told him as she pulled out of the garage. “My treat.”

Podrick smiled at her. “Oh. Thank you, Sergeant. Officer.”

Brienne returned the smile, wiped the sweat from her brow and drove off.

* * *

“You’re going to get bed sores if you don’t get up soon.”

Cersei ignored the voice as she stared at the photo taped to the white stone wall. Jaime standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her with the waters of Estermont behind them. They were on a beautiful little private beach the Lannister family owned, two years before she met Robert. She had curves worth dying her, full lips, beautiful green eyes, long lush golden hair that shone in the island sun and Jaime had two working hands, strong but still gentle and soft, both of them wearing smiles that could cut glass.

If she closed her eyes she could smell the lush beaches, the sand, she could hear the waves crashing against the shore, the gulls flying high above their beach house, her twin gasping her name as he came inside her… There were no needle marks in either of their arms, and she looked at the junkie beggars on the corner with scoffs and disdain. 

Now, if it hadn’t been for her father’s money, she would be begging right along with them. She was nothing more than a meek and mild housecat rather than the Lioness she tattooed on her breast, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself otherwise.

But she had Jaime breaking himself right beside her. Her brother, her twin, her other half, the part that made her whole. She never wanted him to be a junkie, she never wanted him to put needles in her arms… God’s,  _ she _ never wanted that for herself either. But after so many nights of screaming until her throat was raw after her ‘loving husband’ took what he wanted, beating her to the point Cersei miscarried her and Jaime’s son, humiating her, degrading her, and her father promising to write her out of the will of she divorced him, she needed an escape. She didn’t want to drink, that was Roberts vice, and she wanted nothing in common with that whoring psychopath. So one day she went to Renly, the little coke head, and asked him for some of that white powder all of high society knew he stuck up his nose. 

That night Cersei barely felt her own self much less Roberts fists, she barely acknowledged her own existence much less his cock slamming into her without permission… But soon enough coke was doing littler and littler for her. Then came the crack she shoved up her nose and finally the heroin but even that had lost its appeal. She no longer got high, a needle barely kept her straight nowadays. 

When Robert died in a tragic car accident, how was Cersei to know he was drunk when she begged him to go to the store to get milk and thrust the keys in his oversized hand, she told herself it would stop. She had no reason for drugs anymore.

But it didn’t stop. When she was sober the memories of what he did flooded her mind and visions, his voice yelled at her, her skin felt hit where he hit her, her insides hurt where he forced himself inside her… and then Jaime got into that crash, not only losing his hand but crippling a little boy for life, and then that thing with Rhaella…

It wasn’t soon after that her golden brother was asking her for something to help take his memories away, and she obliged happily, greedily thinking that they were together again. They were one in the same once more.

Only now… now Jaime was sober again. He was sober and free and Cersei was alone in jail and aching for a fix.

She could feel Olenna Tyrell, an older woman in for 3 years on a blackmail charge who often wore a black silk scarf around her greying thinning hair, rolling her eyes at her but she still didn’t move. “You need to shower and eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cersei muttered, not taking her eyes from her twin, her happy smiling gorgeous twin.

“Fine but you need to shower. You’re starting to stink up the cell.”

“I’ll take one later.”

“You said that yesterday. Later never came.”

_ Can’t this old cunt just leave me alone? _

“Lannister, I’m not gonna tell you-.”

“He’s gone.” Her tears wanted to fall but she forced them to stay hidden. “He’s gone, he left me alone…”

She heard Olenna sigh and the next thing she knew she felt her arms on her, she was surprisingly strong for an older woman, and rolled her over to face her. “He got out six months early. You should be happy for your brother.”

“He left me.”

Olenna cocked her head to the side while amusement danced in her eyes. “Are you upset because you saw him so often before?”

“It’s just different. I felt better knowing he was just across the hall,” Cersei admitted. “But now he’s gone, and I-... I miss him.”

The old woman sighed and leaned forward. “Look, Lannister, I don’t know what exactly your relationship with your brother is, and quite frankly I don’t want to know.” Cersei glared at who the rest of the inmates and even the guards referred to as the Queen of Thorns. “But you love him, right?”

“Jaime’s my other half.”

“Fine. Then shouldn’t you be happy for your ‘other half’ instead of moping around feeling sorry for yourself?” Olenna eyed the marks on the blondes arms. “Maybe start cleaning yourself up like he did? Wouldn’t it make him proud, knowing his sisters sober and clean when you get out in six months?”

Cersei swallowed hard and lowered her eyes to her arm. She had thought about it. She dreamt about it, she envisioned how happy Jaime would be to see her old self back. He would have the strong beautiful fierce Lioness he fell in love with rather than the caged defenseless house cat the needle turned her into. He  _ would _ be proud of her, she knew he would. Jaime would pick her up in his strong arms, spin her around, kiss her all over while she laughed and smiled... It would be everything she ever wanted.

But the thought of facing the world, facing her past, facing her memories of Robert’s hits, of Tywin’s cruel words shouted at her all theoughout her childhood without the drugs… that terrified Cersei more than the dreams of living happily ever after with Jaime brought her joy.

She opened her mouth to tell Olenna exactly that when Yara Greyjoy, flanked by her ‘squid squad’ as she liked to call the protectors, walked in her cell.

“We need to talk,” Yara told Cersei in a no nonsense tone that left no room for argument.

“You dare not refuse,” Olenna said with a roll of her eyes. The queen of Thorns was the only woman in the prison who could get away with talking to Yara like that.

“Can’t it wait?” asked Cersei without looking at the Greyjoy. “I’ve had a bad day.”

“No, it can’t. Get up. Now.”

Cersei sighed as she stood up from her bunk and followed her co-runner to the cell at the end of the block, the one place the camera’s angle couldn’t see and the place they did their dealings out of. 

The way it worked was Yara’s uncle Euron smuggled in the drugs, Cersei and Yara sold it to the prisoners, themselves included. When Cersei was sentenced she found a dealer in Yara; a woman sentenced to assault, battery, dealing, piracy and a whole host of other crimes that had her doing her a fifteen year bid and who was all too happy to take that Lannister money in exchange for enough heroin to keep her straight.

Cersei was eventually asked to join Yaras crew of sellers, and a few months after that Ellaria Sand, Yaras old partner, was out on parole and thanks to Cersei’s reputation and connections on the outside she was chosen to be second in command.

Yara inspired loyalty, Cersei inspired fear. Yara was respected, Cersei was formidable, and together, they ran the prison’s drug game with an ironborn fist and a lions growl.

When two of the squid squad blocked the door from curious onlookers and potential witnesses, Cersei crossed her thin arms across her chest. “What’s going on?” 

Yara looked at her with cool grey eyes. “You’ve been kind of slacking this past week, Lannister.”

“I’ve had a rough week,” Cersei told her dryly. “Don’t worry, our clientele isn’t going anywhere.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. You know Targaryen in D block? Guess who’s trying to get the customers who normally go to you but couldn’t the last few days because you’ve had a ‘bad week.’

Cersei rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Daenerys Targaryen is a psychopath who burned her husband alive, I really don’t think she has the mental faculties to run a smuggling ring.”

“Her whole family’s crazy, that doesn’t mean she can’t get her psychotic brother to sneak her in heroin and needles… speaking of brothers yours got out a week ago didn’t he?”

The reminder he was gone was like a punch to the chest. “He did. So?”

“So… now we have another man to smuggle the product in. Why haven’t you asked him for help yet?”

Cersei scoffed. “My brother kept his head down the whole time he was here. I’m pretty sure not even the guards knew his name he managed to keep that out of trouble. He isn’t gonna risk anything now that he’s out.”

“He would if you asked him though right?”

Cersei furrowed her brow. “I doubt it.”

“Have you asked?” Yaras voice seemed friendly enough but beneath it lurked a danger that set Cersei on edge. 

“No I haven’t,” the blonde barked. “Because I know he wouldn’t do it. He’s out, Yara, he isn’t going to risk anything to get back in. Not to mention he’s two and a half years clean, he’s out of the game.”

Yara pursed her thin lips at the woman standing before her. “Well I mean I suppose if you don’t want to ask for help I could always get Euron to ask him.”

Cersei took a step forward, a fire burning in her green eyes. 

Euron was dangerous. He tortured for the sake of enjoyment, he murdered, he raped, he was a disgusting worthless excuse for a man and the only reason why he wasn’t behind bars was because witnesses far too often ended up dead with their tongues ripped out...

Cersei didn’t want to think about what a ‘visit’ from Euron would involve for Jaime. The thought of Jaime hurt or maimed further or killed for something he gave up… iit twisted her stomach into painful knots. 

“Listen you little sea bitch,” Cersei snarled dangerously in a tone that would have frightened any other woman in this prison. “If your uncle touches my brother I will fucking end you.”

Yaya smirked, her grey eyes looking over the threatening woman and licking her lips. “He’s gonna come visit you next week, yeah?” Cersei said nothing but her glower shouted the truth. Yara’s lips twitched upwards before she hit the blonde, hard, sending her to the floor. Pain exploded in her face that left her stunned but only for a moment. The moment the stars faded from her sight Cersei scampered to her feet and launched herself at Yara, being held back by two of her guards.

“Tell him if he doesn’t supply there’s gonna be more where that came from.”

Cersei spat a glob of blood at her shoes. “Fuck you!” 

Yara smirked, her eyes feasting on the Lioness. “You know where my bunk is if you’re serious.” 

Then with a wink Yara turned, and walked out.

Please Review!!!


	5. Jaime III

“Hello. My name’s Jaime.”

“Hi Jaime.”

Jaime glanced around the circle of people, all of them strangers except Sandor and Davos. That was a condition of his parole. NA meetings once a week for the next six months. Granted he would have gone to them regardless but still…

The group all sat in metal folding chairs in a sizeable circle, the hanging light above flickered on and off and every so often the rusted metal pipe would clang and groan. A large coffee maker sat on a scratched lime green folding table with styrofoam cups, tiny individual packs of creamer and sugar, and a box of glazed donuts sat next to a stack of paper plates and napkins.

It wasn’t much, but it was obvious Davos tried his best to make a NA meeting in the basement of a halfway house in rundown Fleabottom as inviting as possible. 

He looked down at the concrete floor, the room silent as he gathered the courage to talk to a new group of addicts; some here by choice, others here by court order.

“I’ve been clean and sober for 917 days.” He waited until the lukewarm applause was over, offering a quick smile without looking up from the floor. “Coke was um… was my vice of choice, mine and my sisters actually. Well she- Cersei’s was coke _and_ heroin, I never… mine was just coke. It started when… I got drunk and drove, and I- I got into a wreck. A bad one.” He held up his stump. “That’s how I earned this. I paralyzed a nine year old boy, I crippled his father and I got away with it because my father paid off cops and bribed the judges. I ruined their families lives and I never spent a day in prison.” 

Jaime didn’t look up from the floor. He knew exactly what he would see, he’d seen it for over three years now. Judgement, a destroyer of lives, crippler of little boys… No matter how hard they try to hide it, it would creep through like water crept through cracks in the walls.

None of them would know why. No one, not his NA group in prison, not Sam or Jorah, not even Tyrion or Cersei. His siblings knew the bare bones of the account; he had gotten a call from a friend when he was at a bar and he went to go pick her up but he couldn’t tell the whole story. He would take that secret to the grave.

“That’s what I feel the most guilt about,” Jaime admitted. “The accident and what I did to the Starks of course kills me but the fact I never paid for it destroys me. I got off, I didn’t… I was allowed to live my life, I never… I didn’t have the strength to stand up to my father and tell him I didn’t want him to make it go away. My father gamed the system and I got off scott free… He did that a lot, actually, for me and my sister. My brother says losing my hand was enough of a punishment but I know that’s not true.” _And worst of all, the reason I was out that night didn’t even matter in the end…_ Jaime cleared his throat and took a sip of the coffee at his feet. “Anyway so-... so yeah that’s my story.”

There was another small round of applause, cut off just as quick by the Hound. “You pussy,” he growled in a sharp harsh tone. “You know what I did after I nearly killed the fucker who hurt Arya? I walked to the police station and turned myself in. That’s what a fucking man does, Lannister, they don’t let their rich daddies cover everything up then cry when they feel bad.”

“I tried to make it right,” Jaime argued, his face burning hot with shame. “My father tried to get me off the drug charges but I wouldn’t let him.” 

“You mean you wouldn’t let him after he protected your ass for years.” He scoffed. “How fucking admirable.”

“It was. The cop who arrested me that night, she would have lost everything if I let him cover it up.” _Or gotten hurt or killed._ “She didn’t deserve that.”

Sandor snickered. “What’d she do, suck your cock beforehand? Did you like the feel of her cunt, Lannister and that’s why you finally decided to act like you have a pair?”

“Gods no! Truth be told the cop was one of the ugliest women I’ve ever seen.” _Except for those eyes. Those eyes were astonishing_. “The tallest too, she’s actually taller than me…”

His half burnt face fell, any amusement long gone. “Blonde hair? Looks like she’d burn to a fucking crisp if she saw the sun?”

“Yeah, Officer Brienne Tarth… Do you know her?”

“We’ve met,” was all Sandor said before he went quiet.

One of the other addicts cocked his head at Jaime. “So if you weren’t fucking her, what made her different then all the other cops your father bribed or threatened?”

“I couldn’t stand her thinking bad about me,” he told the group.

“Why though? What made her different then all the others?”

Jaime was silent for a long while. Finally, when he realized they were still waiting for him to speak he gave them as honest an answer as he could. “I don’t know.”

Two hours later the next part of his punishment, far worse than the halfway house or the meetings, was underway. He had to come face to face with his parole officer, Sansa Stark. 

Jaime couldn’t look the stern cold red headed woman sitting across the mahogany desk, he didn’t have the courage or conviction.

He had to piss in front of her into a cup, avoiding her eyes and blushing scarlet the whole time, and when she took it from him she told him in no uncertain terms that if so much as a thumbnails length worth of drugs were found in his system he would be heading back to Kingslanding Correctional before he could so much as blink an eye.

But he was as clean and sober as a Septon, and judging by the scour on her face when she looked at the paper the test had confirmed it too. 

Neither one said anything for a long while until the tension was so thick a butter knife could have made a dent in it. This was a game to her, he knew it was. Get him to break. Get him to break like he broke her brother and father.

“You’re to meet me here, 1:00 PM every Thursday,” Sansa said as sharp as ice finally. “One minute late and I will consider you in violation of your parole.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

“You will be drug tested weekly. If I see a single discrepancy you will be back in cuffs before you can so much as take a breath, Mr. Lannister.”

“I’m clean,” he told her. “I’ve been clean since before I went to prison.” Sansa scoffed and that’s when Jaime finally raised his head to look at her. “I am,” he insisted. “You have the results to prove it, you just watched me piss into a cup.”

“Machines can be faulty. Rest assured I will be running your urine as many times as I have a sample to do it.”

Jaime had to fight back rolling his eyes. He destroyed her family, he ruined their lives. He had no right to be annoyed at her.

She shuffled some paperwork and looked at once. “You’re going to be working at Lannister Holding LLC Inc?”

“Yes. As a call trader, nothing too serious.”

“But I see your projected income is still 150,000 Dragons a year.” She shook her head. “I have someone on parole for stealing a used laptop that can’t find work flipping burgers.” Sansa slammed the folder closed. “But thank God you have your father to bail you out AGAIN.”

Jaime blushed scared and bowed his head. She leaned back in her chair. “You might have everyone else fooled, Mr. Lannister, but not me. I know you. I know your type. You’re a pathetic junkie who gets everything handed to him. You were born on home plate and you think that you earned a run. Well guess what? No more. Not on my watch, not- _look at me when I’m speaking_.”

Jaime raised his head, emerald eyes meeting pale blue eyes like ice. “It all ends today, Mr. Lannister. Do you understand me? I will be on your privileged ass like white on rice. For the next 24 weeks you are MINE, and I swear to the Old Gods and the New if you mess up once, just ONCE, I will end you.”

Sansa eyed him up and down, looking at him like he was a creature so loathsome she could barely stand him. “Get the hell out of my office,” she finally spat, disgusted.

Without so much as a word, Jaime stood up and made his way quickly out of the office and out of the building itself, taking a deep breath of air when he came outside. His heart was pounding and every muscle seemed to twitch with electricity. His hand shook as he ran it through golden hair. 

Jaime needed to run. Or hit something. If he didn’t, he’d have that urge again. That urge to do something stupid, to shove something foul into his arm again, and he couldn’t do that. He WOULDN’T do that, not again.

Jaime got out his phone and googled the nearest gym, sighing in relief when it was just three blocks away. He hurried over to it, a hole in the wall place simple called ‘Giantsbane’.

It was a rundown place, with mismatched older machines, a whole wall of free weights, only one or two cardio machines… The walls were plain black stone with peeling posters of energy drinks and a ‘Mance Rayder for President’ sign. There was a locker room in the front, a corner where threadbare but clean white towers were folded (with a hand written curt reminder to wipe down the machines after each use), and a small cramped office in back that was currently occupied. 

The whole place was empty save for a young girl on the treadmill and an older bigger man on the machines. 

Jaime didn’t even bother changing out of his jeans and T-shirt and instead just went over to the free weights, grabbed a barbell, laid down on the bench press and began to lift the fifty pound dumbbell, grunting softly with each rep until he began to struggle.

It had been a challenge at first, learning how to work out with one hand. He hadn’t bothered exercising period after the accident which is where he should have hired a trainer to help, but prison workouts already requires you to be incentive, so, Jaime just learned how to be even more incentive.

When he was done with the bench press he went over and did the same with squat presses, chest presses, dumbbell rows... For nearly an hour he did every exercise he could think of until he was soaked in sweat and the electric tingling in his useless arm had faded to nothing.

It was only when he was wiping down the shoulder press did he notice a fierce looking red headed man leaning up against the wall watching him with a smug smile on his bearded face. He wore a pair of plain black shorts and a ragged grey cotton t-shirt. 

Jaime takes a brow at the wild looking man. “May I help you?”

“You can, yeah.” His accent showed be was a wildling. As far north as north could go. “You can help me by telling me why you think you can use my gym for nearly an hour and a half without a membership or payment.”

“ _Your_ gym?”

The man’s smile grew. “Yeah. _My_ gym.” He walked over, or more appropriately swaggered, over to Jaime and held out his hand. “Tormund Giantsbane.”

Giantsbane. The same name as the faded sign out front. Jaime’s face fell and his bowed his head. “Shit…” he grumbled before he looked up at the amused man. “I’m sorry, I know I should have came and got you, I just-.”

“You wanted to throw some shit around and not think about life for a while.” He shrugged. “It happens. I saw you lifting, saw you pressing…. you were working some shit out.”

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. “I was, Yeah. I’m sorry, man, I’ll pay for the day.”

“Don’t worry about it, Brother, it happens. But if you want we can go in the back, get you signed up for a membership?”

Jaime nodded and let Tormund lead him to the back office when a hand printed sign on the door caught his eye. ‘Help Wanted. Afternoon and Night’s.’ He pursed his lips, Sandor and Sansa's words ringing in his ear. Tywin got him out of how many scraps, bailed him out how many times, covered his crimes, bribed judges and lawyers and cops… And now, when any other man in his situation would be struggling to make ends meet, he was going to go to a 9-5 cushy job making six figures, all because he had the good fortune to be a Lannister of Casterly Rock.

_No. It stops now. It ends today._

“I’m sorry, do um…. do employees need a membership?” he asked the owner. Tormund cocked his head to the side, examining him.

“Nope, employers get to use all the facilities for free. You got experience? Not just working out, it’s clear you know what to do there, but working at a gym?”

He shook his head. “No. I was a day trader, deal with stocks, bonds, investments… But then I… I landed in jail. I just got out yesterday after a 2 and a half year bid, I’m on parole for the next six months.”

Jaime bit his lip, hoping the looking of surprise would fade soon. It did and Tormund pursed his lips underneath the thick mustache. After a moment the red head finally said, “you fuck someone who didn’t want to be fucked?”

“What?! No!”

“Did you _try_ to fuck someone who didn’t want to be fucked?”

“No!”

“You hit your lady, your kids or your dog?”

“Never.”

“Steal from your employer?”

“No. It was… it was drugs,” he admitted with a heavy blush. “But I’m clean! 917 days and going strong, 918 as of 11:38 tonight.”

Tormund nodded slowly. “Good for you, brother. You mind a little physical labor?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I think I can find a place for you. You’ll start off part time, 4 days a week, Saturday-Tuesday, 6 PM-midnight, eleven Dragons an hour to start, goes up to thirteen when you get a handle on things and that’s when I’ll increase your hours too.” Tormund held out a rough calloused hand. “Sound fair?”

“Sounds very fair,” Jaime agreed with a beaming smile, shaking his new boss’ hand eagerly, practically shaking with anticipation.

He had a job. An actual job, one that his father didn’t pull strings to get him. Fair, honest labor for non exuberant wages.

Tormund laughed, a loud roaring thing as he clapped Jaime on the back. “Well don’t look so down about it, brother. What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m-.”

“Lannister!”

Tormund and Jaime both turned and his eyes went wide as he saw the tall blonde cop storm over to him, her huge freckled hand curled into a fist, glaring daggers at the green eyes man. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Brienne wasn’t in her bulky unflattering uniform, nor boxy jeans and T-shirt. She had on a pair of pale blue leggings and a pale grey tank top with a rose colored sports bra. Her hips were broad and her breasts were meager and thick corded ropes of muscles made up impossibly long legs and strong arms. 

For one, obviously insane, moment Jaime thought she looked… not half bad.

Tormund looked between the two of them, bushy brow furrowed. “You know know each other?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked again ignoring the owners question. “Why are you stalking me?”

“I’m not!” Jaime insisted. “I’m not- I- I mean I know how it looks but I just came from my parole officer, this was the closest gym.”

“You expect me to believe that? You show up at my coffee house, you show up at my gym-!”

“It’s the truth, it was an accident! I mean the coffee house wasn’t but the gym was, I swear it to the Old Gods and the New.”

“I still wanna know how you two know each other.”

Brienne sighed, turning to the large red headed man. “This is Jaime Lannister.”

Tormund blinked. “Who?”

“Jaime Lannister! I told you about him!”

“No you didn’t.”

The hurt was almost as noticeable as her anger. “Yes I did, Tormund! A number of times!”

Tormund blinked again before he clicked his tongue. “Ah, yeah you did. My mistake. Wait this is the same guy?”

Brienne huffed before she turned on her heel and started towards the office. Tormund looked at Jaime and shrugged before he followed her, shutting the door behind him and drawing the shades. Jaime waited outside, hands in his sweat drenched pockets, doing his best not to listen in before the door was thrown open and Brienne stormed out looking none too happy, blue eyes full of hate and anger and loathing when she looked at him before she left the gym.

“She’s a firey one,” Tormund sighed with a starry eyed look of longing. “Gotta give her that. But anyway- you wanna come in and we’ll start on the paperwork? Tomorrow’s Tuesday so you can start then.”

“You… you’re still giving me a job? After she told you our history? My history?”

“She’ll get over it.” Tormund smirked and licked his lips and Jaime had a feeling he knew exactly what the wild looking man had in mind regarding _how_ to get her over it. “Besides it’s my gym, I hire who I want. Now come on.” Tormund slapped him on the back again. “Let’s get you employed, Lannister.”

Please Review! 


	6. Jaime IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see I finally have an endgame plan, 20 chapters (give or take one or two) so yay me lol. Which should mean faster updates, especially since She’s All That is planned out too. But anyway, I hope you all enjoy this story ❤️

Jaime tried his best to hide his smile from widening too much. It wouldn’t be right for Cersei to see him this happy, not when she still had five and a half months and he was a free man. 

But he was happy. Jaime was happier than he had been in a very,  _ very _ long time. He was happy he was no longer in prison, he was happy he could walk the streets of Kingslanding, he was happy he could wear whatever he wanted, he was happy he was sober and most of all- he was happy he had a job that he had gotten because of his own merits. He was finally earning a check with only one Lannister name on it, his own. A small check, far smaller than what he was used to, but it was  _ his  _ money. Fair wages for fair work was how Tormund had put it and that’s exactly what it was.

The work was easy enough. Get people signed up for memberships, help beginners out, call people if their check bounces or cards decline, call people to ask why they haven’t been there in a while, restack the weights, wipe down the machines… Tormund even promised to teach him how to start doing minor repairs to the machines. He had only one hiccup since he started; he needed a different shift than the one he had been hired for, something the owner of the ‘Onion House’ had been more than happy to remind him. 

“What kind of bloody idiot forgets the rules of their parole one day after they get out of jail?” Davos snapped when the parolee told him his hours after the older man had showered Jaime with honest praise for the new job. But Tormund had been fine with his newest employee switching from the 6- midnight shift and instead working from one PM to seven seeing as Jaime’s very freedom depended on it.

He looked around the visiting room. It felt odd being here again. It was the same place he spent every other Saturday, but there was a world of difference as well. For one, he was in jeans and a T-shirt, for another he had only been given a basic pat down when he walked in, not the extensive thorough search he got when he was back in his cell. He wasn’t used to the guards not laser focusing on him while he waited for Cersei to make her appearance; not only to be able to see her but because of 2 and a half years of Namedays to make up for it. 

At his feet was a large cardboard box full to bursting with a plastic bottle of an exotic smelling perfume, higher end bottles of shampoo, body wash, lotion and conditioner, an electric toothbrush, a book he was sure she would like, a new photo of Jaime, a pair of expensive headphones for her radio, even a few family sized bags of her favorite chips that she couldn’t get from commissary. He also threw in a daily subscription of The Kingslanding Times, something Tyrion gave him as a Nameday gift last year, so even if his letters were delayed she would still get something at every mail call and would be able to keep up on current events. New crimson colored shower shoes (her favorite color), her favorite flavor of mouthwash and toothpaste, a large adult activity book, and a new pack of underwear (they were plain white cotton granny panties, the only kind females were allowed in prison, but they were new nonetheless.) There were even two Name Day cards as well; a romantic one for a lover and a humorous one for a sister.

He couldn’t wrap any of it, they just would have it ripped off anyway when they checked to see what it was, so instead he hid it all underneath piles of soft golden tissue paper.

Cersei would love it, Jaime knew she would. His smile grew even wider. 

The loud buzzer overtop the door buzzed and the sound of the metal doors clinking open brought him to his feet, practically giddy with excitement as a steady line of women were herded into the visiting room.

Then Cersei walked in. And any excitement, any happiness, any joy he felt at seeing her again vanished.

“What happened?” he demanded as she walked over to him, her left eye nothing but a large bruise she could barely see out of and her jaw nothing more than a green and purple mess. “Who did that? Was it a guard?”

“I tripped,” she grumbled as she sat down in the hard plastic chair across from him.

“Bullshit. Did…” He lowered his voice. “Did Yara do this?”

“It’s fine, Jaime.”

“It’s not fine. Tell me what happened.” He reached out, putting his hand as close to hers as possible without touching it. “Please?” he begged her in that soft gentle pleading way he knew would get her to listen.

Cersei sighed, rubbing her temple with her hands. “Yara… she asked me to ask you to… help. With the business. Her soap business.”

Jaime leaned back in his chair. “Cersei, I’m… I just-... I just got out.”

“I know, I know.” She ran a hand through her long lank hair. “But her uncle, some guy named Euron, he’s the one who brings her all the  _ soap _ we sell here.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, if you were also bringing in soap as well as selling it on the outside…”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Jaime-.”

“No, Cersei. Okay, I- I’ve never sold… soap before in my life let alone smuggled soap into a prison.”

“You bought plenty of soap before,” she said accusatory. “It’s the same thing.”

“Not really! Besides, I haven’t even touched soap in two and a half years. I’m clean, Cersei I have a job, a job I like, a job I got on my own merits…I don’t wanna screw up anything.”

She leaned back in the chair, green eyes growing angrier by the second. Jaime shifted uncomfortably in his chair and stared down at the scratched table. He hated that look. He hated disappointing her, he hated not being the man she needed him to be.

“You’re going to let me get the shit beat out of me for a job working at a fucking gym?”

“I like working at the gym,” he muttered, guilt crushing him in waves. “And I don’t wanna come back here… Can’t you just go to a guard, let them know you want protective custody for the next few months?”

“Oh yeah, okay!” she spat. “You want me to snitch on Yara? Not only that, but you want me in a little cramped solitary room for 23 hours of the day for the next five months? And what will happen when I get out, Jaime? I’ll be dead before I can even take a breath!”

“Calm down,” he urged her as softly as he could, finally looking up to face her. He saw the fresh bubble of blood on her arm. “Please. I don’t wanna fight.”

“And I don’t want a brother who won’t man up and help me! You gained sobriety and lost your courage, is that it? May I remind you it’s  _ your _ fault we’re in here? If you hadn’t stopped to eat we’d be fine, we’d BOTH be free!”

_ I wouldn’t be fine or free. I’d still be an addict, I’d still be trapped.  _

Jaime had no answer and instead just pressed a fist to his tattoo over his breast, the same way they had connected the countless other times in the visitation room. She glowered at him for a moment but, reluctantly, she followed suit. 

“I’ll think about it,” he promised. A sickening feeling that was somehow worse than guilt overwhelmed him. Even just telling her he would think about throwing himself back into this situation made him nauseous. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to be involved in whatever business Cersei cocked up, he didn’t want to help sell and smuggle the poison that nearly killed him and was hellbent on murdering his sweet sister. He just wanted to work at Giantsbane, keep his head down the whole time he was on parole and move on from that part of his life. 

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, he could tell, but she accepted the non-answer nonetheless and they both lowered their hands. “I um, I got something for you,” he said, forcing a bit of joy back in his tone and face. He reached down and out the box in front of her. The bright light in her eyes and the dazzling smile, such a rare sight nowadays, filled him with glee. Jaime watched as she dove headfirst into the box, literally squealing like she was a child as she pulled out all of the gifts her brother got her, and he laughed out loud when she literally groaned as she inhaled the smell of the non generic bath products. He wanted to make her this happy all the time. He wanted to see that beautiful smile for the rest of his life, he never wanted it to go away. 

He just wished he could see her happy even when he didn’t give her the world…

Jaime’s busride (Tyrion offered to buy him a car, but Jaime had refused. He would save up and buy his own car and until then busses and trains would serve him just fine) back to the Onion House once visiting hours were over was spent with his mind whirling at what Cersei had asked him to do. He was clean, he was out of jail, she knew this but still asked him to do something that could easily get him thrown back into prison. He was mad at Cersei for not getting sober along with him and trying to drag him back down with her, at Yara for hurting her and bringing her into the dealing buisness, at Robert fucking Baratheon for being the reason his sister turned to drugs in the first place, at himself for spiraling down with her rather than lift her up when she needed him most...

He hated all of them. He hated all of them, himself included.

When Jaime neared the halfway house he saw a man leaning up against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. He was a tall man, with short brownish hair, ratty looking racial hair and stormy blue eyes. His black leather jacket, decorated with stars, looked ragged and war-torn and he could see the telltale bulge in the waistband of his jeans where a gun was hidden. The man’s eyes found Jaime’s almost immediately as he approached the building and a rather unnerving smile found its way to the man’s face. 

“Waste of time in asking,” Jaime said sharply before the man could even open his mouth, making his way past him. 

The man laughed. “Quick to the chase huh?” he called out as he made his way up the front steps. “Well that’s alright, I’ll just tell my niece Yara you weren’t interested in talking to me…”

Jaime whipped back around, his one good hand curling into a fist as he walked back towards the man he assumed was the same man Cersei just told him about.

“Euron Greyjoy, at your service.” Euron did a low sweeping bow and stuck out his hand. Jaime didn’t move. “I assume your sister told you about me?”

“She did. I’m not interested in selling or smuggling or anything else. I’m clean.”

Euron clicked his tongue, obnoxiously feigning his disappointment. “Such a shame. I could really have used a man of your talents. You see, in order to smuggle the load into the prison, you gotta stuff the wad of dope up your ass.” Euron leaned in closer, the maniacal look in his eye growing. “You DEFINITELY look like you’ve had a few things shoved up there.”

Jaime glared at him but held his ground. “I’m not interested. Find someone else, there’s three hundred girls in that prison, I’m sure one of them has someone willing to help.”

“Hey, since your sister’s snorted things that I smuggled in, you think that counts as her having her nose buried up my ass?”

Jaime shoved him, hard, and made him stumble and fall to the concrete ground but rather than be deterred, Euron just laughed. Jaime pointed at him, the ancient lion his father told him was in all the Lannisters coming alive with a fierce vengeance. “You stay away from me,” he growled. “And tell your niece to stay the fuck away from Cersei!”

Without waiting for a response from the deranged man, Jaime stormed inside the parole house, slamming the door behind him.

And coming face to face with Davos, holding a wooden bat painted bright red.

“You good, Lannister?” the old man asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded towards the bat. “You all good? With that?”

“Oh aye. These dealers come around every so often, think a halfway house is easy pickings to make a sale.” Davos shouldered the bat. “Me and the red woman here let ‘em know this ain’t the place but this guy… he ignored everyone who walked in or out, all except you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “Yeah… Yeah, he um- he- he’s a mutual friend of me and my sister.”

“Certainly didn’t seem like a friend.”

“Yeah, well... you know how reunions can be…”

Davos nodded slowly. “I do. But if your ‘friend’ comes around again, you want me to call the cops?”

“No!” Jaime said quickly. If Euron ended up in jail that might mean Yara would think Cersei snitched. He couldn’t have that happen, he couldn’t put her in danger like that. “No, I- I can handle it. Or, if you want, you and your ‘red woman’ can go and deal with it if he tries to sell to anyone, just… be careful. Okay?”

Davos gave a curt nod. “Always. Go get ready for work, Lannister, it’s almost noon.”

Jaime thanked the old man and headed up to his room that was thankfully empty (Sandor usually worked personal security, but today was his day with his daughter, which meant he was gone the second he was allowed to leave and would be back with three minutes to spare.) Jaime quickly showered, put on a pair of gym shorts and a loose fitting shirt, put on his sneakers and headed out with just enough time to be ten minutes early. When he left the Onion House, Euron was gone and Jaime let out a sigh of relief.

He sat down on the bus stop bench and he saw a slip of paper held down with a needle stabbed into the wooden bench with only Euron’s name and number. Jaime took a deep breath as he grabbed the paper and tore it free of the macabre paperwork, staring down at it for a long while before he forced himself to open his hand and let the wind take it from him…

  
  


Please Review!!!


	7. Jaime V

“You promised me you would be here by six thirty, it’s almost-,” Jaime looked at his watch and had to stop himself from stomping his foot. He ran a shaking hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “It’s a five minutes to seven!”

“Look,” the voice on the other line snapped, long ago having lost any sense of decorum or patience with Jaime after repeated calls asking where he was on his route and begging for an estimated time of arrival. “I can’t clear out traffic in the most crowded city in the country, I can’t help that Dornish are holding a rally downtown and traffic needs to be diverted.”

“You don’t understand, I have to get out of here by seven!” he shouted into the phone. Jaime needed to be on the number 18 bus by 7:13, in order to run through the door of the Onion House with eight minutes to spare. 

After a month of working at Giantsbane Jaime had it down to a science. Clock out at 7:00 on the dot, walk the block down to the bus stop, seven minutes to sit and relax and then he would be on his way back home. The reason he was able to do that anal about the time was he had Tormund there to man the gym until the other co-worker Orell, who hadn’t shown up for work on time once in the weeks Jaime had been there but was a close friend of Tormunds, arrived. But today Tormund left early due to his favorite team playing the Sunday night game and he wanted to get a good seat at the sports bar, so he left Jaime in charge for the first time since he started working there with a promise that Orell would be there on time.

Only it was now, he glanced at his watch and audibly groaned, 6:58 and his co-worker was nowhere in sight.

“Please get here!” Jaime pleaded, desperately, frantically, putting every pleading ounce he had in him into his request. “Please! I need to be back at the halfway house by eight and if I miss my bus-.”

“Look, Lannister, it’s not my fault you have a curfew like a fucking high schooler,” Orell shot back. “I’ll get there when I get there.” 

A click, and then he was gone.

“Fuck!” Jaime roared, slamming down his phone. He paced the small crowded office for a moment, trying his best to control his rage and not take it all out on the customers or the equipment or Tormunds tiny office. But time seemed to speed by. Every minute felt like half a second to the point Jaime was almost convinced his watch and his phones clock were broken. 

Finally, at 7:03, two minutes before he HAD to leave or else he would miss the bus, he threw open the door, letting it slam against the wall so hard the little panels of glass vibrated.

The gym was nearly empty apart thanks to it being a Monday night. There was an older man mosying on an exercise bike so slow he might as well not have even gotten on it, three moderately buff guys on the machines, a young trim woman running on the treadmill and then Brienne was in the free weights benching a considerable amount of weight. From the number of weights on the bar Jaime guessed she was lifting about 200 pounds, give or take a pound or two. 

He stared at her and for a moment Jaime forgot he was angry. He forgot everything but watching the woman who hadn’t spoken two words to him since that first day and always had a nasty hateful glare that seemed to be custom made for him. 

Her simple movements on the bench press were fluid and almost artistic; up and down, up and down, breathe in, breathe out, up and down… The grunt she let out with every push was powerful and strong, somehow masculine but also a sound he could easily picture a female making in bed. She didn’t wear baggy shorts and boxy T-shirts, nor hyper-sexualized ultra short-shorts and sports bras, her workout clothes were only as tight as they needed to be, always reached her calves or went down to her ankles, her tank tops covered her hard stomach and her sports bra, not that she really needed one from what Jaime could see, effectively covered up what her top left exposed. 

Her muscles were thick long cords of power and strength, more muscles then he had ever seen on a woman before, well honed and obvious and pressing up against her tight gym clothes. 

More than once he found himself wondering, usually late at night, what those muscles would look like under her clothes, how they would feel under his hand, how those grunts and gasps and heavy breaths would sound when his hand and tongue and cock was the cause of it rather than her exerting herself. His cock would always stir at the images his mind procured but he would force himself to push them away and would always try to call up Cersei instead, to less and less success…

Jaime was fascinated by her. Brienne wasn’t beautiful, far from it, but there was something about her that, for whatever reason, stuck with him from the day he got cleaned up to now, a hard earned 948 days later. 

A text alert on his phone on his phone made him jump and turn away from her, thankfully before she caught him staring, and when he looked at his phone and saw the time he cursed, loudly, and slammed his fist against the wall. 

It was 7:05. He would now have to run to catch the bus.

He called Orell  _ again  _ and received nothing but a voicemail. He called again and again until finally it was too late to even run to the stop.

Jaime felt his heart slam against his chest. He was going to miss curfew. Davos would call Sansa, Sansa would have him thrown back in jail for the next five months and however long he got for breaking parole all because of some drunk wildling couldn’t be bothered to show up on time KNOWING he had to be back in time, he would-.

“Catch a cab.”

Jaime turned towards the voice and blinked when he saw Brienne standing there, sweat dripping down her brow and soaking her pale blonde hair. She looked less than pleased, like talking to him was the equivalent of having to wade through a river of muck and fresh shit. 

“Go, catch a cab, I’ll look after the place until Orell gets here,” she grumbled, the sour look on her face not doing anything for her looks.

Jaime furrowed his brow. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because, Mr. Lannister, as much as I loathe your very existence and as much as you deserve to be in prison for what you did to the Starks, I don’t want you incarcerated just because you were late for curfew through no fault of your own. It’s not fair to let someone be punished for someone else’s idiocy.”

For a moment he wished he could express his gratitude and thanks in a better way then a quick smile and a burrows ‘thank you, Officer,’ but that was all he had time for. Forgoing his bag in his locker and changing back into his jeans and hoodie, Jaime ran out of the gym, his heart slowing slightly only to have it start pounding again when he remembered just how scarce cabs were in this part of the city.

He glanced at his watch again and groaned. 7:15. 7:16. 7:17… the seconds and minutes ticked by way too fast and for one moment he felt tears gather in his eyes that he quickly blinked away.

“Lannister’s don’t cry,” Tywin told him once with a sharp slap outside his head when Jaime was six years old and his kitten was found under his father’s sports car rear tire.

He didn’t want to go back to jail. He couldn’t, he had survived it once but Jaime couldn’t survive it again, he knew he couldn’t. He could run. They wouldn’t send out the marshalls for a former drug addict with five months left on his sentence. Maybe he could-.

“What are you doing here still?” 

Jaime turned and once again found himself staring eye to eye with Brienne Tarth with a hoodie over her top and a small duffel bag over her shoulder, furrowing her pale blonde brow at him. 

“I thought you were watching the gym?”

“Orell just got here, but that doesn’t answer my question. You’re supposed to be gone, it’s-.” She looked at her own watch. “It’s almost seven thirty.” Brienne eyed him distrustfully. “Is there a reason you’re still here instead of heading back home?”

“There’s no cabs around here and I don’t have a debit card yet so I don’t have a ride share app and I’m gonna miss curfew and-...” He has to stop talking because he felt tears coming again. “You might as well just take me to jail now,” he grumbled, staring down at the sidewalk.

Brienne sighed, gnawing at her plump lip for a moment before she got out her phone. “Which one are you staying at?” she asked, sounding half annoyed at him and the other half at herself.

“What?”

“Your halfway house, which one is it?”

“The… the Onion House.”

“Davos Seaworth the one in charge?” Jaime nodded, watching as she scrolled through her contacts before she found who she was looking for. She was silent for a moment while she held the phone to her ear. “Hello Mr. Seaworth? This is Kingslanding PD Officer Brienne Tarth, badge number 1689 out of the 1-8th. No, there hasn’t been any arrests made this time. But I do have one of your charges here with me; Jaime Lannister… He isn’t in any trouble, I promise, but I’m calling to inform you that he will unfortunately be late for curfew tonight… I understand that, Mr. Seaworth, but I assure you it was through no fault of his own… Yes… Yes, I will be giving him a ride home and I will gladly sign any paperwork… Of course… Thank you so much, and I will see you when we get there... You too… have a good night.”

Jaime started wide eyed and slack jawed at the tall cop. Brienne had just… she helped him. She wasn’t going to take him to jail, she was actively helping him stay out of prison.

“Is this… is this a trick?” He asked once she put the phone back in her pocket. “Am I going to get arrested for entrapment or something?”

“For accepting a ride from an off duty officer? No, you aren’t,” she said dryly. “But if you want to walk home on your own, be my guest.”

“No, no, I just-.... I didn’t think you would want to help me.”

“I don’t want to help you personally,” she clarified.  _ Oh. _ “I’m a cop, I’m sworn to help people in general.” Brienne eyed him rather distastefully. “No matter what I feel about them. Come on; my cars parked in the garage a block down from here.”

Without another word she turned and Jaime, not knowing what else to do, followed the cop down the street. It was a pale blue SUV, not new by any means but it wasn’t a junker either and when Jaime climbed inside he found it clean of any garbage with a palm tree shaped island scented air freshener hanging from her rear view mirror. 

After he buckled, she refused to even start the car until he had, Brienne pulled out of her spot and began the drive back to the halfway house. Jaime did his best to stare straight ahead, tried to avoid the tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife. She didn’t even turn on the radio to help alleviate the awkward silence. After a moment Jaime cleared his throat. “So… have you lived in Kingslanding long?”

She eyed him again, gauging if this was some kind of trick. “Seven years,” she finally answered cautiously.

“Ah. You go to school here?”

“No.”

“... Care to elaborate?”

She let out a huff of breath. “I went to university in Winterfell,” she admitted but even that was given grudgingly. “They have the best criminal justice program in the country. After that I got accepted into the academy here, the rest is history.”

Jaime nodded. “I went to Casterly Rock University,” he said once when realized she wasn’t going to offer any followup. “For undergrad and my MBA. I was a business major. Absolutely hated it,” he added with a short laugh.

Brienne just gave him a slight nod as she turned a corner. Jaime took a deep breath, glancing out the window for a long stretch before he cleared his throat and nodded towards a fried chicken shack. “Are you hungry?” he asked her. “My treat, as a thanks for the ride home.”

“No thank you,” Brienne said rather stiffly.

“Come on, just one chicken sandwich won’t kill you.”

“This isn’t a road trip, we’re not stopping for snacks.”

“No but we could stop for a meal.”

For a moment he thought the corners of her lips turned upwards but they were back frowning a moment later. “How about burgers instead?” she asked. “The kitchen will be closed by the time you get home.”

“No burgers,” he said sharply, sharper then he intended. He took a deep breath. “I can’t eat burgers since… Cersei didn’t wanna stop for burgers that night. I insisted, she hadn’t eaten in three days. What happened, it’s all my fault.”

She was silent for a long moment before, finally, she said, “in that particular instance, it wasn’t entirely your fault. She was the one who threw the glass and assaulted me first.”

“I know but she’s always been… jealous. Irrationally so. You touched my shoulder,” he reminded her. “That’s what set everything off…”

Brienne raised a pale brow. “Isn’t she your sister? Your twin at that? Why would she be jealous of a woman touching your shoulder?”

A hot blush crept up his cheeks as he bowed his head. “Me and Cersei, we don’t… we don’t have a very what you would call a healthy relationship.” 

She said nothing, just stared straight ahead. The silence was overwhelming before, finally, she managed a few words. “My partner, he was hungry. If he wasn’t we wouldn’t have stopped.” 

Jaime looked down at the vacuumed car mat. “I’m glad you stopped,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. He saw her look towards him. “You saved my life that night, Officer Tarth.”

He heard her sigh as she stopped at a red light. He glanced over at her and watched her lick her plump lips. “... Sansa is my best friend. She’s been my best friend since university. What you did to her family…”

“I know,” he muttered as the guilt ate at him. “That still doesn’t change the fact you saved me. In more ways than one…”

“Well… cops are modern day knights. We’re supposed to be anyway,” she grumbled. “We’re supposed to protect the weak, rescue the innocent, defeat the bad guys, and, on occasion, even rescue the bad guys.”

“No offense, Officer, but that sounds very naive.”

“I know.” She sounded so sad, so disappointed, so heartbroken in her shattered realization that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her. “But someone has to believe in that idealistic ideal, someone has to believe that deep down things can change for the better if they work at it and do the right thing, even if they get mocked or insulted or demoted or-.”

“Hang on,  _ demoted _ ?” Jaime’s heart broke in two. “You were demoted? Over me?”

Brienne looked over at him, brilliant blue eyes gauging if he was being honest or not. “You didn’t know?”

Fuck. It didn’t work. He did his best to try to protect her from his choices and she still ended up suffering.

“Of course not. I-... I didn’t… Brienne, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost your promotion, I’m so sorry.”

She lowered her eyes for a moment before she picked them up again. “It’s alright.” The tightness in her voice proved it wasn’t. “I’ll get it back. Someday. They can’t hold a grudge forever…”

“If you want I can talk to my father-.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t need you to clean up my messes.”

“Technically I made that mess.”

“You did but I have it handled. I was named after the blue knight herself, the first female knight in history. I’d be a pretty poor namesake if I let something like a demotion had me running for help.”

Jaime managed a soft smile. “Me and Cersei were named for the infamous Lannister Twins, the shamed Queen and her Kingsguard. Apparently my father didn’t mind the bad parts, he just cares about the fact that one was a queen and the other the youngest kingsguard in history.”

Brienne pulled up to the Onion House and turned off her car, looking at her passenger for a long while. “Cersei, the original Cersei, was the one responsible for her brother dying… He lost his life for a lost cause, he lost his life trying to save an unsaveable woman from an unwinnable situation.”

Jaime swallowed hard as he turned to look at her, emeralds meeting sapphires.  _ She does have astonishing eyes…  _ “I know,” was all Jaime said.

The two of them walked in side by side seven minutes past curfew, but Davos didn’t seem too upset when he saw Brienne walk in beside him. She signed a piece of paperwork that said she took responsibility and brought him back after the curfew, bid Davos goodnight then turned to Jaime. 

“I’ll speak to Tormund,” she promised Jaime. “Orell won’t work there another day, you have my word. This won’t happen again.”

Ah. He had almost forgotten these two were dating. Or whatever their arrangement could be called, Jaime wasn’t exactly clear of the labels. Tormund trusted her with the gym on her own early in the morning before it opened and she had free reign to come in and out of the office in the back. Not to mention he always seemed to talked about her in rather crass terms, but whenever Tormund would put an arm around her waist or on her back, she would freeze up and blush, like it was an unwanted touch. Once he had even slapped her ass, hard, when she was walking by so she wailed around and hit him full in the face and the two had gotten in a shouting match in front of the whole gym which led to Brienne storming out. But three days after that she brought Tormund a dinner and dined with him in the tiny office, and when Jaime has walked in an hour later to talk to him about the broken settings on one of the elliptical she was pulling her top down and blushing furiously looking almost humiliated while Tormund quickly zipped up his fly with a smug smirk on his lips.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they had been doing. 

“Thank you again,” Jaime told her. “I… I owe you my life. Again.”

Brienne looked at him for a moment then gave him a curt nod of her head. “Have a good night, Mr. Lannister.” 

Without so much as a second glance she turned on the heel of her sneaker and walked out. 

Please Review


	8. Brienne III

Brienne winced as the burly red headed man pounded into her, grunting as loud as possible, yanking her short pale blonde hair back as he thrust inside her over and over, again and again.

 _Gods please let it end soon_ , she silently begged and not for the first time. Any wetness he managed to trickle out of her when they first began had long since gone away and now almost every thrust was painful and sore. But this was fine. Truly. She could deal with a little pain. Plus Tormund bought her a new set of red lingerie, lace crotchless panties and a matching half bra that left her nipples exposed which was a nice gift. Of course he did it knowing she wasn’t a fan of lingerie, but it was the thought that counted.

It was fine.

Truly.

She just wished he would hurry up...

“You like that?” Tormund grunted, jamming his tongue in her ear. She yanked her head away. “You like that big hard dick in that tight fat pussy, blue eyes?”

Not knowing what else to say, she merely moaned his name the way she knew he liked and dug her nails into the flesh on his back. Finally, _finally_ , his thrusts became wild and frenzied with no discernible pattern to them. Tormund threw his head back, gasping Briennes name as he came undone, emptying his seed inside her before collapsing on top of the blonde, panting hot and heavy in her ear like a dog.

Brienne stroked his bushy red hair before he rolled off her, collapsing on his pillow. “You’re so perfect,” he managed to say through his gasps. “I mean… shit, Brienne…”

She managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before he pulled her in close, positioning her so her head was resting on his chest. Brienne wrapped her arms around him while he stroked her pale mussed hair.

“Thank you for getting rid of Orell,” she said again for what felt like the hundredth time that week. “I know he’s your friend but…”

“Hmm? Oh no, it’s fine. Bastard never showed up on time anyway,” he scoffed. “When he did show up he was drunk… I shoulda let him go a long time before this. I just can’t believe he almost got Lannister thrown back in jail.”

“Well… I won’t say it wouldn’t have been a nice sense of poetic justice,” she mused. “Him losing his freedom because of someone else’s mistakes, but it wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

Tormund shrugged. “Life ain’t always fair, blue eyes.”

“You really don’t need to tell me that.”

“No I don’t.” He grinned at her and she bit back a groan, knowing exactly what that smile meant. “But I _could_ tell you how hard your perfect little tits are making me,” he purred, running the pad of his calloused thumb over her nipple back and fourth until it was erect.”

“Charming,” she said rather dryly, pulling away from him. Brienne got out of bed and pulled on her bra and boy shorts, a soft matching plain blue cotton set. Those she felt comfortable in, those she felt almost sexy in when she had bought them and wore them under her loose boxy clothes or unflattering uniform. She had actually bought them with Tormund in mind, knowing he liked her in lingerie, but this set was practical as well, something she could wear on a day to day basis. But he liked what he picked out for her a lot better. Which was fine. Truly. So what if she didn’t like the hyper sexuality of the crochless panties or the nipple revealing bra or the feel of the scratchy lace? The lingerie was all about getting him off after all so it was fine.

Truly.

“Where you going?” he asked as he followed her example, quickly pulling on his boxers and jeans. “You got the day off.”

“Sansa wants me to come with her when she does her random searches.” She shrugged. “It’s just easier for me to go rather then her having to call the precinct and ask them to spare a few officers, it should only take an hour or two.”

“You coming back after?”

“That depends,” she said as she went into his abysmally organized closet and took out the one spare uniform she kept there, the only thing wrinkle free and pressed. 

He grinned at her. “On what?”

“Will you be ignoring me to watch the Mammoths play?”

“Blue eyes, it’s three games away from the playoffs.”

“And they’re 2-10,” she said with a short laugh as she bent over to grab her socks. “I think it’s time to admit your team is a dud.”

“Hey!” The next moment Brienne nearly toppled over when she felt a hard *SLAP* against her ass. “Don’t talk about the Mammoths like that.”

She straightened out and whipped around, shoving Tormund, hard, and watching with narrowed eyes as he fell back on the bed. 

“I told you not to do that!” she shouted, jamming a long slender finger in his face. “You know I hate that!”

“Relax, blue eyes,” Tormund laughed. “We aren’t in public.”

“I won’t relax!” she yelled, the laughter adding an obscene amount of fuel to her fire. “I told you I hate being slapped like that!”

“Yeah, in public!”

“Anywhere!” she cried. Brienne felt the beginning of unexplainable tears that she quickly blinked away. “Just forget it!”

Deaf to his pleas for her to come back, she stormed into his bathroom and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the sink, ignoring the unknown blue stickiness on the stained porcelain mixed with ginger hair and furiously wiping the tears from her eyes. After she heard him grumble something in a Northern language she didn’t understand and storm out of his room she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. 

It was fine. Brienne was fine. Truly. 

Yes he knew she hated having her ass slapped, especially that hard. Yes she had actually hit him when he did it at the gym in front of not only those he worked out with but Jaime Lannister and the two of them got into a shouting match in front of them which was even MORE embarrassing inretrospect, but she forgave him for that three days later when she apologized with a homemade dinner and then a quickie in his office after he begged and promised her that the door was locked (it wasn’t she found out later. Jaime had walked in as they were re-dressing and Tormund hadn’t even bothered to wipe the smirk off his face when Brienne had burned bright crimsin.) But this time were in the privacy of his bedroom after they just had sex, she was bent over in her boyshorts. She was definitely overreacting. It was fi-

 _He knows how much you hate that though_ , a voice inside told her, plaguing her with a guilt she knew deep down she should listen to. _He knows you hate having your ass slapped…_

Shaking her head, she forgoed the shower for just a quick wash with hand soap and a wash cloth (she refused, _refused_ , to clean his own shower drain that was always full of course red hair and for some reason she could never fathom why the shower floor in his apartment was almost greasy) and dressed herself in her uniform. After she brushed and slicked her hair back she took a deep breath and headed out to the living room where he was nowhere to be found. 

Brienne found a hastily scribbled note under her gun belt she brought with her saying Tormund left to pick up wings and pizza for the game and a request she lock the door behind her.

There was no apology. 

Rolling her eyes she stuffed the note in her pocket, she buckled the gun belt around her waist, made sure her weapon, ‘Oathkeeper’ she named the gun from the Blue Knights famed sword itself, even if it was met with snickers from her colleagues, was on safe before she bolstered it, and headed out, locking the door behind her. 

Once she was in her car, Brienne got out her phone and shot a quick message to Sansa asking her what halfway house they’d be searching today. A minute later she received a reply that made her heart drop into her stomach. 

The Onion House. Brienne would be helping Sansa search her parolees at the Onion House and not only that, she would be there when Sansa got the paperwork from Davos saying Brienne gave Jaime a ride home, something she planned to tell the red head after several drinks.

Sansa was already upset at Brienne for Tormund giving Jaime a job, even if she had argued with the red head about it, and she was mad at the blonde for still going to the gym, even though it was free and there was no better option for the cop. This would just be another already big wedge in their friendship.

Great. Just fucking great.

Putting aside her fears for the moment, Brienne drove the half hour to one of the better half-way houses in this part of the city, or at least one of the ones where the owner actually cared about the tenants and wasn’t just sitting on their asses collecting the rent checks from the state.

Sansa was parked around the corner, looking as nondescript as she could in jeans, sneakers and a plain black hoodie with the hood up incase one of the parolees happened to look out and see their parole officer standing there. That would give them time to get rid of the contraband. 

As she got closer Brienne recognized the bulk of the bullet proof vest under her friends hoddie. She looked up from her phone and nodded to the cop. “Hey. You ready?”

“Always,” Brienne answered, trying to keep her voice even. She trailed behind Sansa, a whole half-foot taller than the redhead. Davos greeted the parole officer with a polite nod. “Ms. Stark.” He turned towards Brienne and grinned. “Officer Tarth, Nice to see you again.”

“Again?” Sansa looked between a furiously blushing Brienne and a confused Davos. “Where did you two see each other the first time?”

“The gym,” Brienne answered quickly. 

Brienne was a terrible liar. She never had the knack for it, her face always painted itself crimson, and she had too many tells. She always told the truth, even as a child. Her father said if she wanted to be a good cop then she would always be honorable and tell the truth. How could a cop expect to take away people’s freedom of tbey can’t consider themselves trustworthy? She took that advice to heart and never quite learned the hiding her tells. 

Davos quirked a brow at the blonde but his face went neutral when Sansa turned back towards him. “Aye, the gym. Anyway, who are we searching today?” asked Davos as he got out his rather impressive ring of keys.

“Sparrow,” she answered, looking down at her list. “Then Myr, Clegane, and Lannister. That’s all I got living here at the moment.”

The older man gave a curt nod before they approached the first door. Davos knocked on the closed door and a moment later an older gentlemen, seemingly feeble and frail with white hair dressed in grey pauper clothes answered the door but his eyes, his grey eyes were alive and alert.

“Random inspection,” Sansa announced before she burst into the cramped space Hugh Sparrow shared with a while a red headed man dressed all in crimson.

“I swear to you, Ms. Stark, I haven’t touched a drop to drink,” Sparrow protested as he stood in the doorway, watching as Davos, Sansa and Brienne shifted through his closet, bed stand and under the mattress. “I’ve just been living here peacefully with this heathen-.”

“That ‘heathen’ got drunk, lit a sword on fire and accidentally burnt down an empty warehouse with no injuries to anyone but the owners insurance company’s bank account,” Sansa said as she tore back the older man’s blankets, shaking them out before laying them in the foot of the bed. “You kidnapped a man, starved and tortured him until he ‘repented’ all because he was gay. If anyone’s the heathen here, Sparrow, it’s you.”

“All those who don’t follow the Seven and who break Their laws are unworthy in the eyes of the Father, and He will judge them harshly,” Sparrow said hotly, being met with a snicker from the man on the other side of the room. “Including this fire degenerate.”

“I prefer arson enthusiast,” Thoros said as Brienne three back the bedding on the Fire priest’ side and patting down the mattress for any signs of matches, candles, lighters or anything else on Thoros’ restricted list and finding nothing before she lifted the mattress and looked between that and the box spring.

“Both you girls were made in the Mother’s image,” Sparrow said as they continued their search through the closets, putting the clothes neatly on the nude bed so they could put them back without much effort afterwards. “Both of you have strayed from your purpose. The Mother wants you to marry, have children, be humble and submit to your husband. Repent, and She will give you Her mercy.”

“Gonna be kinda hard to submit to my husband when I’m dating a girl,” Sansa mused as she watched as Brienne looked and felt in the top shelf of Thoros and Sparrows closet with no effort needed before announcing the room was clean. “Also as far as the Old Gods I follow are concerned, I’m fine the way I am.”

They heard Sparrow’s protests and Thoros’ laugh all the way down the hall.

The climbed another set of stairs and for some reason Brienne’s heart began pounding as they approached Jaime’s door, like Sansa would have been able to sense the fact she had given him a ride him a week ago in an attempt to be fair to the man her friend hated more than anyone alive, who crippled a little boy for life, who all but admitted he and his sister had an… _unhealthy_ relationship he had called it, the tamest word there was for it, who got away with a hundred crimes solely because of who his father was…

But Brienne was still a cop. No matter what he did to her friend’s family, she swore to protect the weak and innocent. In that moment of need, close to tears at the thought of missing curfew, Jaime was an innocent. Her oath extended to him as much as it did anyone else...

Sansa slammed on the door, eyes already narrowed in hatred. A moment later Jaime answered the door, furrowing his brow. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyes flittering between Sansa and Brienne.

“Random inspection,” the red head said sharply, pushing past Jaime and storming over to his closet. She wrenched open the doors and grabbed all of his clothes before throwing them to the ground and kicking them across the room.

Brienne winced as Sansa yanked his shoes out, ripping out the soles of each one individually and tossing them both across the room. This would take Jaime forever to fix… 

Putting that out of her mind she walked over and stripped the bedding off of Sandor’s bed, shaking out the sheets and pillows but finding nothing but a soda bottle. 

“What the fucks going on?” the burnt man’s harsh voice rang out. Brienne looked over and met his brown eyes, both of them pulling themselves up to their fullest height. Sandor cleared his throat. “Tarth,” he grumbled with a nod.

“Mr. Sandor,” she replied in kind before they both turned away from each other.

Brienne had been the cop that found him and Arya sleeping in a dirty beat down crowded car. The girl hadn’t gone to school in nearly two years, was dirty, half starved... Brienne called ACS and promised Sandor that when he got clean and sober and had decent housing then he could have his daughter back. 

Sandor had yelled and shouted that he could protect Arya then a shelter or a foster family could and Brienne shouted back that sleeping in a car with only two pair of clothes wasn’t keeping her safe.

He launched himself at the cop who tried to keep it a clean fight but pretty soon the two giants were rolling on the sidewalk kicking, biting, punching… She elbowed him between the legs, he kicked her between hers, she bit a piece of his ear off and finally won the fight by throwing him into the car so hard the windows shattered and the metal dented. They both stayed a week in the hospital and he took a plea, doing a two year bid for assault and battery on a cop. Then he wasn’t even out for a year when he got into a massive bar fight when some drunken degenerate grabbed the small girl when they were out to dinner at a local sports bar one night and kissed her.

Brienne had never heard of nearly killing someone by stabbing their neck with chicken wing bones much less turning yourself in afterwards but he had, and when he saw Brienne in the station they regarded eachother with almost a frosty respect. He had been out of line and drunk but he was just trying to protect his daughter from going into the system, and Sandor, eventually, recognized Brienne was just trying to protect Arya from a life of homeless vagrancy.

A loud crash made the cop jump and when she looked over she saw Sansa tossing his bedside drawer across the room, contents spilling out of it.

“Is this really necessary?” Jaime asked unamused, watching as Sansa tore off his bedding and tossed that across the room as well. 

“If its one thing I learned in my years as a PO.” She flipped the mattress off the box spring before she turned to him. “It’s never trust an addict…”

Brienne bit her lip before she went back to shifting through Sandors closet, finding nothing more than some expired coupons half off an order of Yiti sweet and sour chicken. After she was done with Sandors side of the room and checked the top of both closets she walked over to a visibly disappointed Sansa. “Both sides are clean,” Brienne announced. 

Sansa pursed her lips at Jaime. “You sure about thet, Officer?”

“Positive.”

The red head stared at him for a moment before she turned to Brienne. “Search him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Search him, see what he’s hiding.”

Biting back a sigh, Brienne motioned to him and without argument Jaime went over and pressed his hands against the wall. The blonde patted his arms and chest down (Gods he was strong), then his thighs (REALLY strong) and legs before she turned to face Sansa. “He’s clean. He’s not carrying anything.”

Sansa glared at Jaime for a long moment, as if through sheer will power alone she could force him to break his parole before she turned and stormed out of the room, barking at Davos to fax her the paperwork.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lannister,” Brienne said, watching as Jaime looked around the destroyed room wondering where to start with the cleaning after the Hound left the room. “Truly.”

“It’s fine.” He picked up the top half of a shattered bottle of cologne, frowned at it, then tossed it next to the overturned trash bin by his bed. “If anyone deserves to have their room ransacked by her it’s probably me.” Jaime turned to Brienne and looked at her for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “You wanna get a coffee?”

Brienne blinked. Once. Then twice. “I’m sorry?”

“A coffee. Do you wanna go get a coffee?”

“Mr. Lannister, that is _NOT_ appropriate!”

Jaime laughed, a warm sound that would have to had her smiling if not for the situation. “I’m not asking you for a date, just a coffee. You saved my life, you saved me from getting thrown back in jail and just now I’m pretty sure you just saved me from getting a cavity search. I think the most I can do is buy you a crappy cup of Fleabottom coffee.”

Her face turned bright red just at the mere implication of it. “I-... you, this is NOT-!”

“It’s ‘not’ anything more than someone buying you a cup of coffee. That’s what people do to show cops appreciation right? Buy them coffee?”

“Well… yes but-.”

“So let me buy you a coffee. Just as a thanks.”

Brienne gnawed at her plump lip. This was wrong. He paralyzed Bran Stark, he crippled Ned Stark, he was a criminal, a criminal she herself arrested…

The longer she stood there not saying anything the more his smile fell. Until, finally, he was glaring at her. “Forget it,” he snapped. “Just leave, be the good little perfect cop you are, play by all the rules…”

Outside the low roll of thunder growled and raindrops began pattering on the window. 

Brienne glared fiercely back. “I will play by the rules, Mr. Lannister! Because that’s what _good_ people do! That’s what people who care about others do! Good people play by the rules, good people don't do drugs, good people don’t have inappropriate relations with their sisters and good people most assuredly don’t paralyze little boys because they thought themselves above the law and decided to drive drunk!”

Without so much as a word, and making sure to kick his blanket even further from his bed Brienne stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

Who the hell did he think he was? Inviting her out for coffee. He was a drug addict, a criminal, he ruined her best friends family and he expects them to be close? To pal around and get coffee together? Is that what he expected? For the two of them to sit and laugh at how a boy who wanted to be a cop more than anything now couldn’t so much as get down a set of stairs without assistance over a latte?

Jaime Lannister was disgusting. A disgusting drug addicted criminal. That was all he would ever be.

By the time she got outside the rain was coming down in buckets, soaking her pale skin through her thick blue uniform. Brienne started down the block where her car was parked and just as she nearly reached it a familiar voice yelled out to her. She quickly turned, hand going to her pistol as she watched Jaime Lannister storm up to her, barely flinching as the icy cold rain soaked through his black T-shirt.

“You don’t know me!” he shouted at her, his voice barely carrying over the roar of the rain and the roll of the thunder. He stopped but half a foot away from her. “You don’t know why I’ve done the things I’ve done, you don’t know what I’ve been through!”

“Back away, Mr. Lannister!” Brienne yelled, grabbing the pistols grip. “Now!”

But he didn’t. 

“You judged me the moment you set eyes on me! And you had no right!” Jaime took another step towards her. Brienne grabbed him by the arms, whirled him around and slammed Jaime against a building, pressing his face up against the soaking brick while the rain pounded down on both of them. “You are under arrest,” she told him in no uncertain terms, wrenching one of his arms behind his back.

“He was going to rape her!”

She was reaching for the cuffs in her gun belt when he shouted out. Brienne twisted him around, big blue eyes wide and full of shock that she fought to contain. “What do you mean?” she demanded, mind whirling a thousand miles an hour. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jaime pushed the soaking wet hair from his face with a shaking hand. He was silent. For a long long while he was silent as the two of them stood inches apart while the rain came crashing down, soaking them. Just as she was about to ask again he spoke, voice trembling and barely heard o er the ponding of the rain and the roar of the thunder. 

“My-... my girlfriend in college, Rhaella. We broke up but we stayed friends and I-... after she got married her husband, Aerys, he… she would call me crying. He’d beat her, scream at her, hurt her, rape her...” 

_Were those tears in his eyes?_ Jaime seemed to look past her into an unknown time and place. “I tried to protect her. I tried to save her, but Aerys, he was some huge financial wizard on Dragon Street, he had all the cops protecting him, he golfed with the police commissioner… And Rhae, she didn’t want to tell anyone. I was the only person she trusted to look out for her, the only person who cared about what was happening to her. She made me swear not to tell anyone what he was doing to her, she was terrified of someone else finding out. One night I… I was out at the bar. It was Friday, I didn’t have to work the next day, I was celebrating this huge merger when Rhae called, sobbing, terrified. He was drunk, he was pounding on the door, screaming at her, threatening to… he said he had a gun and he would-would shove it... Aerys said he would- would burn down her house with her still tied to the bed.” 

The tears in his eyes mixed with the rain pouring down. Brienne could do nothing but stare wide eyed and slack jawed at the man before her. “I _BEGGED_ her to call someone else. To call the cops, to let _me_ call the cops for her, I told her I was too drunk to drive and a cab wouldn’t get there in time, that I couldn’t come and save her, not then, but she didn’t trust anyone else with her secret.”

Jaime turned back to Brienne finally. He looked so small, so helpless, so desperate for her to believe him… His body had begun to shake from the chill of the cold and the sheer emotion this seemed to take out of him.

“I had no choice,” said Jaime. “I didn’t want to drive drunk, that was the first time in my life I’ve ever driven drunk… Bran Stark, he was paralyzed because of what I did, his father was hurt, I lost my hand and Rhae… Aerys murdered her that night then killed himself afterwards so it was all for naught anyway. All of that because I tried to keep my friends secret. Because I was trying to be a good man.” 

When he finally came to a close, Brienne realized her mouth was agape so she shut it and stared at him for a long while. He seemed to need help to be able to even stand. Her voice trembled when she could finally manage to speak. “If this is true.” He whimpered and flinched as if she hit him. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell the Starks?”

His voice was a harsh guttural bark. “You think anyone wanted to hear my side of the story? I paralyzed a little boy, I broke Ned Stark’s leg in three places… No one wanted to hear from me, no one cared about my reasons… They all judged me the moment they set eyes on me.” His legs began to shake and wobble. “What right does anyone have to judge me?” he growled. “By what right?!”

His legs finally collapsed under him and Brienne caught him easily, lowering him to the ground and holding him tight in her arms. “Mr. Lannister!” she cried, giving him a gentle shake, reaching for her radio to call for an ambulance. “Mr. Lannister, stay with me!”

“Jaime, he gasped, looking up at her with wide green eyes. “My name’s Jaime…”

Please Review!!!


	9. Jaime VI

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

Jaime leaned back on the overly stuffed hospital pillow, crossing his arms across his chest as the storm outside raged on. 

A thin but warm beige blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and he had changed out of his soaking wet clothes into a pair of jeans and T-shirt of Briennes that she had in her trunk. The pants were a bit too tight and they only reached the top of his ankles but the shirt fit well enough and best of all he was dry, which was more than he could say for the soaked officer standing beside his bed, blue uniform dripping water onto the clean tiled floor.

After he passed out Brienne called an ambulance for him, despite his insistence that he was fine and didn’t need to see a doctor (or the half slurred muttered equivalent of that) as she helped him to the ground and used her jacket to cover him in an attempt to keep him dry. He remembered seeing her in a white wifebeater, completely soaked through, with the streetlight shining down on her as the rain fell. 

_ She could almost be a beauty,  _ Jaime thought to himself as he looked up at her, the rain and streetlight creating a golden halo of sorts. A panic grasped at his heart and he remembered clutching at her arm like she was the only thing in the world. 

“It’s not drugs,” he managed to push through the heavy fog that was threatening to overwhelm him. 

Jaime wasn’t sure why it was so important that she knew that whatever this was wasn’t his fault. Truth be told he wasn’t sure why he had to tell her about Rhae and Aerys either… maybe he couldn’t stand the way she looked at him like he was nothing, maybe because he couldn’t stand her judgement, not now, not when she looked at him in that courtroom and his life changed… Brienne had to believe him. She had to...

“It’s not drugs,” he muttered. “I swear it’s not…”

“I know,” she told him and the way she said it he actually believed her. “I know it’s not, Jaime. Help is on the way, I promise…”

_ Jaime. She called me Jaime. _

He had come to in the ambulance with him all the way to the hospital and he told her that he was fine. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he knew that whatever it was he was over now. But she insisted he be seen by a doctor so here he was an hour later having been poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions by the nurse and Brienne stayed by his side the whole time. 

“Did I just get unlucky or are you always this stubborn?” Jaime asked her, pulling the blanket around himself tighter. He had offered it’s warmth to her earlier but she told him to keep it for himself.

“I am not stubborn,” she insisted stubbornly, and Jaime laughed. The corners of her plump lips tugged upwards as well but before either could say anything more the sea green curtain surrounding his bed was thrown back and an older maester with snow white hair and kind brown eyes walked in. A long thin chain that he had pinned to the breast of his white coat some fifty links long, a symbol for what the maesters of old used to wear, put Jaime at ease.

“Good evening, I’m Maester Luwin,” he greeted with a friendly smile as he pulled the curtain back around the bed and sat down in the small leather chair and wheeled himself up close to the bed. Luwin glanced over at the cop then back at the patient. “Would you rather you and I speak in private?”

“No,” Jaime said the same time Brienne offered to step out. She had to hear that this wasn’t drugs. She had to hear he was sober. “She can stay.”

Luwin nodded before he flipped open the manilla folder and handed it over to Jaime. “The reason you fainted, Mr. Lannister, is because of a disease. An easily treatable and fixable one,” Luwin said quickly seeing the terrified look on Jaime’s face. “But a disease nonetheless. It’s called Hepatitis C. Now your records indicate you were an IV drug user for several years?”

Jaime blushed crimson and avoided the sapphire eyes looking at him as he nodded. “But I’m clean, over 2 ½ years.”

“I believe you, Mr. Lannister,” Luwin assured him. “Your urine and blood work shows no trace of even a Tylenol but with this disease it can take years for symptoms to appear. The fatigue you suffered tonight, the confusion… I’m assuming you’ve had a bit of a lax appetite as well?” Another nod. “Text book Hep-C, Mr. Lannister. Fortunately we caught it early before it did too much damage to your liver but you will need to take a pill every day for the next eight weeks and go easy on the alcohol for the next few months.”

Jaime pursed his lips for a moment before he shook his head. This didn’t make any sense. “No. No, Maester, I- my girlfriend in college, me and Rhae lost our virginity together and then there was only one other person after that.” His face burned brighter and his eyes fluttered over to Brienne who to her credit was doing her best to keep her face blank as possible when confronted with him confirming whatever thoughts she had of him and Cersei. “And I always used clean needles. The one time I didn’t I shared it with the same person I was having sex with.”

The Maester gave him an almost obnoxious pitying look. “Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?”

Jaime swallowed hard. Rhae had been too sweet and too innocent to cheat on him. Besides they only dated for two months before they decided they were better off as friends, he knew she wouldn’t have cheated just in that short time frame anymore then he would.

And Cersei… Cersei… Well Cersei had only been with Jaime since Robert died. Sure Robert was a manwhore but Cersei hadn’t laid with the fat slob since his fists caused her to miscarry and the bloodwork showed she was clean then. A week after she was released from the hospital Cersei shoved Roberts keys in his hands after he downed a twelve pack, a bottle of Dornish wine and a tumblr of Northern whiskey and ordered him to go get milk. 

No. It had to be a mistake. Cersei was faithful to him and he was faithful to her, she told him there was no one else, only him. They were the only ones that mattered, she wouldn’t lie to him…

“My-... She wouldn’t cheat,” he settled on rather sharply. “She loves me. There has to be another explanation. We’re one of those couples that got it even though we’re both monogamous.”

Luwin just gave him another pitying smile that screamed he didn’t believe Jaime before he pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled something on it before he handed it to the green eyed patient. “One pill a day with food for eight weeks, should be cleared up in no time.”

“Thanks,” Jaime grumbled, shoving the prescription in the too tight pockets. With a friendly nod Luwin turned and walked out. Once he was alone he turned towards Brienne, half expecting a look of disgust, but instead she gifted him a smile as well. This one wasn’t full of pity like the Maesters has been, nor was it sad, but she was genuinely trying to comfort him and make him feel better.

What shocked him was somehow the small smile that seemed to light up her eyes did somehow make him feel better…

“It’s easily curable,” Brienne reminded him. “That’s all that matters.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, getting out of the bed. “Easily curable…”  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful? _

“If you want after you sign out I can give you a ride back to the Halfway House. Davos already knows you’re at the hospital so there’ll be no problem with curfew.”

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ “I um… I think I’m gonna walk home, I just need to clear my head a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ “Yeah I’m sure. But thank you, Brienne, for the clothes and for getting me to the hospital and for… for listening to me.”

She nodded. “Of course. And I’m… I’m sorry,” she told him, sapphires meeting emeralds. “I’m sorry for judging you. You’re a good man, Jaime Lannister. You’ve done bad things, quite a few, but at your core you’re a good man.” 

He stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape. She was blushing so fiercely he was sure the crimson traveled far down her throat and past her meager breasts. No one had called him that in a long time. A  _ very  _ long time. Not his father, not his brother, certainly not his sister… truth be told he couldn’t remember the last time he thought of himself as that. But here she was, this woman who saved him, whose opinion meant the world to him, who was honorable and good and decent and everything Jaime wanted to be when he was younger (he would never tell a soul but he had wanted to be an officer as well after high school until his father told him in no uncertain terms he was going to take over the family business)... Brienne Tarth was actually calling him a good man, and more importantly she meant it…

Neither one of them spoke, unsure where to go from here. So Jaime just did the thing that came most natural to him which was give her a curt nod of thanks, then on his heel and head out of the hospital, not even bothering to sign out at the front desk.

The storm had let up and a brisk sharp wind was in the air, forecasting another storm on the horizon. 

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

No. No it wasn’t. Cersei loved him, he and Robert were the only ones to be inside her, she promised him. They were going to run away together to Essos, they were going to marry and live happily ever after, they were going to adopt a little girl with big green eyes and beautiful blonde hair… 

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

Cersei was faithful. Jaime knew it. There had to be another explanation for his sickness. She must have shared needles before with someone infected. That had to be it. She got it from the needles of someone else and that one time they shared a needle she had given it to him. 

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

But… but she swore up and down she never shared needles. That she knew the ‘needle guys’ by heart, the ones in the pharmacies who didn’t ask questions, the do-good Septons who traveled around in their car passing out sandwiches and clean needles and smiles… They had only shared a needle that one time because the thought of sharing each others physical blood had turned her on so he said he would be willing to try it for her. He ended up in the hospital because of it…

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

Jaime shook his head. No. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Cersei wouldn’t be unfaithful, she wouldn’t cheat, she wouldn't lie. He would talk to her on Saturday and ask her, calmly, what happened and tell her to get a blood test from the prison doctor.

He just shut the door to his room behind him when the rain started back up again. Seeing as it was almost eleven and lights out was an hour ago Sandor was already asleep and, Jaime realized with an affectionate smile, most of his stuff had been put back in its proper place. He would have to organize it tomorrow after he got back from his parole but at least he wouldn’t have to clean his side of the room when all he wanted to do was sleep…

That night he dreamt of Cersei on her back moaning and gasping, laughing and smiling that beautiful intoxicating smile of hers as a hundred faceless men pumped between her legs, and all the while she was telling an onlooking Jaime that he was the only one who mattered, he was the only one she ever loved…

The rest of the week creeped by as slow a week as ever had before. 

The day after the hospital Brienne visited the gym, disappeared into the back office where Tormund was working on paperwork and drew the blinds. An hour later she emerged, blushing crimson and avoiding Jaime’s eyes as she headed over to the free weights. 

Tormund called him in, a self satisfied look on his bearded face, and told Jaime he was switching up the hours the green eyed man would be working. From now on he would be working eleven-6 rather than one-seven, giving him ample time to catch a bus and be home for curfew without worrying about being late.

Jaime had been so excited he almost missed the fact that his bosses fly was unzipped and almost missed the spare towels on the floor that would have worked wonderfully as makeshift knee pads if someone needed to kneel on a cold concrete floor… 

When Saturday finally came it was like the weight of all of Casterly Rock was on Jaime’s shoulders. The question Luwin posed repeated itself over and over; while he showered  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ While he worked  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ On the whole bus ride here  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

It was eating at him in the absolute worst way and by the time he was sitting in the hard plastic chair with her favorite soda in hand, the question was screaming at him to the point everything else was blocked out.

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _

He was going to confront her. He was going to demand to know who she slept with, he was going to make sure everyone knew she had cheated and infected him and-.

_ Gods be good! _

His mouth fell open as he watched Cersei walk into the visiting room. Her left wrist was in a brace and her right eye was so bruised it was swollen shut.

At once, any and all thoughts of confrontation left him as Cersei sat down across from him. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, emerald eyes wide and stunned.

“What do you think?” she grumbled. “Euron told Yara you weren’t willing to sell so she took it out on me.”

“Gods… Cersei, I-... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, clearly,” she snapped. “Sorry enough to sell?”

Jaime swallowed hard. “I-... Cersei, I just got more hours at the gym and-.”

“So that’s a no. Once again proving that a job at a  _ gym _ earning minimum wage is more important than helping me.” He bowed his head, mumbling that he was earning two dollars more than minimum. “I don’t care, Jaime!” she shouted. “I don’t care! I need your help or this!” She shoved her strained wrist in his face. “Will happen again!”

He swallowed his guilt. “I-... I just- why not go to a guard? You have 4 ½ months left, just ask them to put you in protective custody. You don’t need to tell them why.”

“Oh yeah, and what happens after my sentence is up? They have people on the outside, idiot!”

“Don’t call me an idiot, Cersei,” he muttered. He took a deep breath before he found her eyes again, a furious mirror of his own. “We don’t have to stay in Kingslanding. We can pack up and go to Essos, or up past the Wall or Dorne, we don’t NEED to stay in Kingslanding.” Jaime reached out as close to her hand as possible but she snatched it away and put it in her lap. He put on his sweetest softest smile that always seemed to melt her. “We can have the life we always dreamed of Cerse, we can get new identities, we can marry, we can adopt a little girl who looks like you… If we don’t snitch they’ll forget us after a while.”

“No!” she barked, earning the attention of every guard in the room.

“Cersei, calm down,” he begged.

“Fuck you! Okay you’re out, Jaime! You don’t have to be in here with her! You left, remember? You  _ ABANDONED _ me!

“I didn’t  _ ‘ _ abandon’ you,” he snapped. His anger began growing, and Luwin’s voice started repeating over and over…  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ “I got clean! You should be happy for me, you should be  _ PROUD _ of me!”

“Proud of what? I should be proud of you because you think you’re better than me?”

“I don’t think I’m better than you, Cersei, I-... I worked really hard on my sobriety and you never once, not one bloody time, told me you were proud of me!” 

“Because I’m not!” she shouted back. Jaime had to blink away the hot angry tears that came on as sudden as a flood. “Became it meant that you left me here to rot!”

“You could be out of here too!”  _ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful?  _ “We had our parole meetings at the same time, we met with the same judges! But you wanted to stay an addict, you didn’t wanna stay low like I told you to do! Instead you wanted to ‘sell soap’ with Yara fucking Greyjoy!”

Even after all the years of missing his hand he still raised it when Cersei slapped him and every time it caught nothing but air. Her hand struck him hard across the face and a half moment later she was all but thrown to the floor and her arms were cuffed behind ber.

“Fuck you!” she screamed at her twin as she was hoisted off the floor. “I hate you, Jaime! I hate you!”

“Well you aren’t exactly at the top of my fucking list right now either!” he roared, getting held back by another guard as he fought to get to her, ignoring the orders to calm down. “Oh, and by the way, ask the doctor to get tested! Some dirty junkie you fucked gave us Hep-C!”

“Liar!” Cersei shrieked, spitting at his feet. Her breast was heaving and her eyes were cloudy and darkened with both lust and hate.

“Why the Gods made me love as hateful a woman as you I’ll never fucking know!” he shouted, watching as she was dragged out of the visitors room. Jaime yanked free of the guards grasp and stormed into the visitors bathroom, slamming the stall door behind him.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper and button on his jeans where his cock was already straining against the fabric. “Fucking hateful BITCH!”

He closed his eyes as his left hand stroked himself up and down, up and down, gripping himself punishingly hard, the same way Cersei would have ridden him had they been allowed to touch. 

He pictured his twin as she used to be, beautiful and full and his, only his. Her nails would draw blood as she hissed in his ear that she hated him and he would pull her hair so hard some strands would come out in his hand as he snarled back that she was nothing but a hateful cunt as she rode him mercilessly or he would pound between her legs so hard that bruises would cover both of them, marking her long neck with his lips and teeth, letting the world know she was his and he was hers…

“Hateful cunt,” he gasped as he moved faster and faster, knowing as soon as she was alone she would be seeking the same relief. “Hateful fucking cunt, you’re mine! You’re MINE!” 

Jaime gasped out her name as his seed spilled into his hand and he quickly wiped it up with the thin scratchy toilet paper… As he softened he leaned his head up against the stall door and tears filled his eyes

“You’re supposed to be mine,” he whispered to no one as the tears fell to the tiled floor. “You’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to be proud of me, you’re supposed to be happy for me, you’re supposed to love me…”

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful? _

Yes. Yes it was.

Please Review 


	10. Brienne IV

“I’m horny and I miss you.”

“Again, ‘how was your day?’ is also an appropriate way to start a conversation.”

Tormunds larger than life laugh came over the car speakers her phones Bluetooth was connected to. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. What time you getting home?”

“It’ll be a while,” she admitted as she drove past the large stone monolith prison. “I had to drop off Podrick. His cars in the shop and he lives all the way in Fleabottom.”

“Alright. I’ll be here waiting with Yiti.”

“I already got out two steaks for dinner, they’re defrosting on the counter.” A smile made it way to her plain pale face. “I thought I could make us a nice romantic dinner? Sound good?”

There was a long pause and then, “... That was supposed to be for dinner?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples, any joy vanished in a puff of smoke. “What’d you do with it?”

“Fried them up for lunch.”

“You took two grade A tenderloins… and you decided to make chicken fried steaks with them?”

“Well… Blue Eyes, does it really matter how they’re cooked so long as they’re eaten?”

She closed her eyes for as long as it was safe to drive. It’s fine. Truly. As long as he enjoyed the steak (the  _ very  _ expensive cuts of steak) she had planned for a romantic dinner then did it really matter how they were cooked? Sure she had been looking forward to those steaks since she got them out of the freezer this morning but take out was perfectly fine too. Truly. Him wasting the- eating the steaks was fine. Truly.

“Can you get me pepper steak and noodles?” she said, doing her best to keep the disappointment to a low level. 

She was being ridiculous. Pepper steak was fine. Truly. It wouldn’t be oven seared tenderloin with homemade herbed butter and broccoli florets but she was still getting steak tonight. It was fine.

Truly.

“Of course, Blue Eyes. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Brienne hung up without another word, cursing the oncoming headache she knew was heading her way and chastising the tears that jumped into her eyes. After the week she had she just wanted a decent home cooked meal, a well seasoned steak cooked by her, and instead she was getting Yiti takeout.

Work was a never ending cycle of petty people getting their petty revenge, when she asked Tarly if he would be willing to reevaluate her demotion he told her in no uncertain terms that unless she wanted to spend the rest of her time on the force writing out parking tickets she would forget about any promotion, she knew Sansa would soon discover the fact that she gave a ride home to Jaime and then her friendship with the redhead would come crumbling down and then Tormund was, well, Tormund. 

Thinking that Jaime might be able to use a little peace at night for a while she asked the redhead the day after she took him to the hospital to change his hours so he wasn’t rushing around at night and could take a moment to breathe after he got off work rather than run to the bus stop and hope there were issues that delayed him or the bus. Tormund said he would be happy to change his hours, but, he said with a smirk that she knew all too well what it meant, he would want something in exchange.

So, with a roll of her eyes, she got down on her knees and did what he wanted in the tiny cramped office, pushing down her shame with every stroke of her tongue. Afterwards Tormund laughed and when she asked what was funny he told that he actually had been considering changing Jaime’s hours on his own for the same reasons and was going to talk to him the next day of his own accord. 

It took everything in her not to slap him. Instead she just walked out, burning bright crimson and brimming with shame when she passed Jaime, hoping Tormund had enough decency to zip up his fly and pick up the towels she used to cushion her knees before he brought him in the office

But it was fine. Truly. Hadn’t their relationship started because of what was supposed to be a one time thing on top of his desk? And it wasn’t as if she never got on her knees before for him, at least time something good. It was fine. 

Truly.

Then a few days later he mentioned that the lease would up on his apartment soon and asked if instead of renewing it he could move in with her. She told him she would have to think about it which wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, so he continued to badger her until she finally told him that yes, she would let him move in when his lease was up in two short months.

Tormund celebrated with sex that left her with a headache with all the hair pulling and then he finished out the night by spilling wing sauce and beer on her couch when he watched the Mammoths play later on. 

But it was fine. Truly. The stain came out with scrubbing (a  _ lot _ of scrubbing on her part) and he almost brought her to orgasm so all things considered it wasn’t too terrible a night. It was fine.

Truly.

Brienne blinked away the last of her tears as she turned the corner and continued down the nearly abandoned street, furrowing her eyes at the lone stranger shuffling slowly along on the sidewalk, recognizable even from the back.

She pulled over and called out to him, earning not even a spare of a glance. Brienne got out of the car and hurried over to him, standing in front of him and watching the blank expression his handsome face, a far away distant look in his eyes.

“Jaime? Jaime, are you okay?” She took a cautious step towards him. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you alright?” Brienne reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jaime?”

He finally,  _ finally,  _ blinked, his eyes sliding back into focus. “Brienne?” He half whispered her name, his words thick with what she could only describe as gratitude that she was here in front of him.

“It’s me…” she confirmed as gentle as she knew he needed her to be right then. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Thank you. Sorry, I just-... I’ll be fine. I promise.” Jaime flashed her with a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes, trying to convince her and, she correctly guessed, himself of that. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was driving my partner home.” Realizing her hand was still on his shoulder she yanked it away as a faint blush painted her cheeks. “And you?”

“I was visiting Cersei,” he muttered, and his green eyes immediately were cast downwards. Brienne felt a stab of pity for him. 

It was bad enough to be diagnosed with an illness someone gave you but to have that person be someone you thought was faithful…

“Did… did she admit to… anything? I won’t arrest her for anything you say, I was just curious,” she said quickly.

“I know.” Then, meeting her eyes, he added, “I trust you.”

Her painted cheeks burned hotter but she forced herself not to turn away from him. He looked so sad, so lost, so desperate… This was tearing him apart, she knew. Gods she barely knew him but she already felt she could read him better then she knew Tormund.

_ This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy… _

She shoved her huge hands in the pocket of her hoodie, hating how crimson her face must have been. “I um… I was wondering if- if you wanted to… maybe get a coffee and… talk? Or not talk about it, whatever you want.”

The corner of his lips tugged into one of those infuriating smug smiles and his eyes crinkles with a speck of light. “I thought you said it was inappropriate for us to go get a coffee together?”

Despite herself she felt her own smile creep up on her face, big and wide and ugly, a smile that Renly used to tell her to always cover up when they were together. But Jaime didn’t cringe at it. His own smile just grew at the sight of it. “I did. Get in the car, Jaime.”

When they were both in the car she shot a text to Tormund telling him she would be home later than expected and drove him to a small little coffee house in Fleabottom a block from the Onion House that Jaime frequented. She ordered a simple black and he matched her order and the two of them sat at a tiny little wobbly table, coffees mostly untouched in front of them.

“We got into a fight,” Jaime admitted after a long bout of small talk. “Cersei’s never been proud of me for getting clean, she thinks I abandoned her because I got out earlier.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “You got clean  _ while  _ in prison… doesn’t she realize how hard that must have been?” She couldn’t begin to count the amount of addicts she arrested or saw who got hooked while in prison and then Jaime had been the only one she saw who used prison as an actual rehab and came out better on the other side. 

She hadn’t been lying when she told him she was proud the first day she saw him. She was. Truly and honestly, and she hated him when they met. She couldn’t begin to imagine being whatever label he and Cersei had for each other and not being over the moon proud of him for getting sober.

Jaime shrugged. “It’s fine. It doesn’t really bother me,” he lied through his teeth. “But I started thinking that she’s never said that to me. Never; not when I got accepted into Casterly Rock University, not when I got my MBA, not once during any of my football games when I played…” He cleared his throat and took a sip of the coffee. “I’m sorry, I’m whining.”

“No you aren’t. She’s important to you, it’s understandable you’d feel that way.”

A flicker of a sad smile drew on her lips. The lights reflected the wetness in his emerald eyes. “I don’t know how important she is anymore… I don’t think she ever thought I was important to her.” 

Brienne gnawed at her lip. Her thoughts drifted to the redhead sitting on her couch at her home. How she tried to tell herself she loved him, how she told herself she was fine with him wasting her steak, and slapping her ass in public, and was fine to let his employees walk into his office when they were having sex, with leaving the milk out, and the beer bottles next to the couch that he without fail always kicks over…

_ You’re being ridiculous, _ a small voice that pushed through all the doubt chastised.  _ You’re fine. Tormund’s fine, everything is fine. Truly. _

“Jaime,” she said softly, reaching for his hand (to do what, she wasn’t entirely sure) but before anything could happen the front door opened and his face darkened. 

“Don’t say you’re a cop,” he breathed, barely loud enough for her to hear it. Before she could question his request a ratty looking man came swaggering in. Her eyes immediately noticed the bulge in his waistband that showed to anyone in the know that he was carrying. As subtle as possible she reached for her purse where her service price and badge was kept, the only thing that proved she was an officer.

“Get out of here, Greyjoy,” Jaime snarled as the man approached their table. 

Greyjoy. Brienne knew the family well by reputation if not by name. Balon Greyjoy was serving 15-25 for conspiracy to overthrow the government, Brienne knew his son was in for murdering two little boys (and a host of other murders to try to cover it up), his daughter was locked up for a host of crimes too numerous to name, one of his brothers led a cult in the Iron Islands and was convicted for convincing his followers to drown an innocent woman, and another brother beat his wife to death for having the audacity to be raped on their wedding night. The worst of the worst, Euron, however, had scraped by every attempt for detectives and officers to arrest.

It wasn’t old money like what the Lannister’s used that kept him safe, it was that witnesses and cops and anyone who might turn against him, even his own crew, usually wound up threatened, raped, beaten, mutilated… Influence kept the Jaime and Cersei out of the system for a time, fear kept Euron Greyjoy out. 

And now; Euron Greyjoy was standing right beside her table looking down at Jaime with crazed eyes as blue as a storm. 

“Heard there was a fight at the prison,” Euron said cooly, ignoring the warning to leave. “What? Your sister not wanna rub your chub under the visitors table?” He looked over at Brienne, meeting her heated hateful gaze head on. “Or is she mad you’re out here fucking another woman while she’s still inside? If you can even call that a woman,” he sneered, eyes sliding over her plain un-made up face and flat chest.

Euron turned to and leaned in closer to a glaring Jaime. His smile turned dangerous and Brienne reached into her purse, gripping the pistol grip, sapphire eyes focused on his hands.

“So you never gave me a call after we talked last time.” Euron put his hands over his heart. “My heart is broken, Lannister. I was so upset that I had to go and cry to my niece and, well, you know how protective she is of me.”

“Yeah I saw that.” Jaime glared up at him. “If she touches Cersei again I’ll-.”

“You’ll what?” Euron snarled, no longer smiling. 

His hand flinched towards his waistband and Brienne clicked the safety off her weapon still inside her purse. Jaime reached over and laid his hand overtop hers, shooting her knowing look before he turned back to Euron. “There’s a hundred other girls in that prison. You don’t need me, you don’t need Cersei. Just leave her alone, leave  _ me  _ alone. You don’t need a sober guy and a girl whose getting out in four months helping you out.”

“How about you don’t tell me what to do, and instead you do what  _ I  _ tell you to do? Because if you don’t?” Euron flicked the flesh colored prosthetic strapped to his right arm and shot him a dangerous grin. “I’d hate to give you a matching lefty…”

Without another word Euron turned on the heel of his ratty boot, flashed another sneer to the cop and walked out.

Before Brienne could even breathe Jaime turned to her with desperate green eyes. “Don’t arrest him.”

“Jaime, he threatened you,” she said sharply. “He threatened your sister, right in front of me. I’m supposed to just ignore that?”

“I know, I know… I got a handle on it.”

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing one of the most dangerous men in Kingslanding just promised to cut your left hand and have Cersei beat.”

He shushed her and glanced around the mostly empty coffee house. “I know, Brienne, but I can handle harassment, Cersei can handle a few beatings and can go to one of the COs if it gets bad enough but if they think one of us ratted them out to the cops?”

Brienne gnawed at her lip. “Jaime, I-.”

“I know what I’m asking.” She never heard him sound so desperate. “It’s not fair and it’s not right, you’re a good cop but they’re dangerous, you said it yourself. If they think we ratted, we’re dead.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Euron won’t care, Brienne. It’ll already look bad once he figures out I was seen having coffee with a cop, me and Cersei will be dead, you know this. Okay he-...” Jaime ran a hand through his golden hair and lowered his voice. “He wants me to help sell...  _ soap _ and sneak it into the prison’s.”

She raised a pale blonde brow at him. “Soap?”

“Soap. I told him him no but he doesn’t like my answer. Look Cersei’s out in a few months l-... he’ll get bored of harassing me and then we can put that call behind us just… Please don’t ask me to rat. Please don’t arrest him.”

Brienne sighed, looking over the nervous green eyed man seated across from her. She should tell him that there was no choice in the matter, that Euron threatened not one but two people right in front of her, that had his hand moved an inch closer to the gun in his waistband that she would have drawn hers...

But she also knew, unfortunately, Jaime was right. If she arrested Euron or questioned him they would think he ran to her the first moment he could. Jaime could be killed, Cersei would be murdered… She couldn’t have that blood on her conscious, not hers, not his. Especially not his.

“I won’t say anything to him,” Brienne promised, and the smile he wore sent an unfamiliar fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. She never felt  _ those _ with Tormund… “But I am worried about you and Cersei.”

“I’ll be fine,” he told her, sounding almost sure of his words. “Cersei… I’ll talk to her. I’ll try to convince her to go into protective custody the next few months.”

“If she doesn’t listen do you want me to talk to her?”

Jaime scoffed at her, looking at her like she had grown a second head. “You, the cop who sent us to prison, wants to ask my sister, the person who hates you more than anyone alive, about her illegal activities in prison of which you only know about because her brother, the second most hated personal in her life, was out drinking coffee with you?”

“...Well when you put it like that.”

He chuckled and took a look at his phone, groaning. “I gotta get back. I‘m gonna be late for NA.”

They both stood and after Jaime paid for her coffee, he refused to let her spend a single cent when he had been the one to talk her ear off, he sent that dashing smile towards her once more and offered the chance for her to repay the debt with dinner.

“I, I- Thank you but I can’t,” she stammered out, her face going crimson with blush. “I got- Tormund he- he’s waiting in my- our- my apartment with… with Yiti…”

“Tormund,” he muttered, guilt shining in his eyes. She had a strong feeling he forgot about the man who gave him a job fresh out of prison with hardly any questions asked. “Right.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, blue eyes cast to the ground. “Tormund…”

Jaime just stuck his hands in the pocket of his coat, nodding. “I get it. I’ll see you at the gym then. Have a good night, Brienne.”

She watched him walk away for a long moment, guilt and fear and adrenaline and a thousand other things racing through her. This was crazy. This was insane, this was NOT appropriate not only for a cop but a cop in a relationship, a cop whose best friend hated the very fiber of his being.

But, she told herself as she hurried after him, there was no law against it. He was a free man, it’s not like he was a suspect she was investigating, he was sober, he hadn’t bribed her… 

“Jaime!” she cried out just before he got into his Uber. He turned back to her and, breathless, she shouted, “rain check?”

The gleam in his eyes sent the dormant butterflies stirring again, only this time they fluttered last her stomach into something lower that filled her with an uncomfortable but wanted heat. 

“Rain check,” he agreed after a moment and a nod, one that told her they both knew exactly what her willingness to take him up on his finger offer meant.

Things were most definitely NOT fine.

Truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This chapter was a bitch to write, like nothing would work, i worked on it for like 2 weeks, I’m not happy with it really and it’s just… ugh. It just wouldn’t flow right. I’m sorry ☹️ 
> 
> 2) KANSAS CITY CHIEFS ARE THE GODDAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD!!! I’VE SUPPORTED THEM FAITHFULLY SINCE I WAS FIFTEEN, I’VE WAITED LITERALLY HALF MY LIFE FOR THEM TO BE SB CHAMPS AND NOW THEY ARE!!! HOW ‘BOUT THOSE CHIEEEFS?!?!  
> Omg y’all... I cried, literal tears, in the bar on Sunday night I was so fucking happy. I love Mahomes, I love Kelce, I love Coach Reid, I love Hill & Mathieu, Jones, Watkins, Fisher, Ware, Willams, all the rest, I love you all so much, you deserve it, your city deserves it, your fans deserve it, your team deserves it... I love my Chiefs ❤️💛


	11. Brienne V/Olenna I

Jaime pushed into Brienne as hard as he could. His scruff left a pleasant burn against her skin wherever he kissed her and his hands, Gods his hands, felt like magic wherever they grabbed and wondered and touched. Eyes of brilliant emerald green stared deep into dazzling sapphire while his voice whispered her name in her ear, kissing her and touching her exactly like how she liked. 

He was slow and soft and gentle, caressing her, cupping her breast and lightly running the pad of his thumb over her erect nipple and then when she had her full of that, Jaime left a trail of kisses down her collarbone, down her breasts, down her stomach and settled between her legs.

Brienne moaned softly, arching her back as he lapped at her slick sweetness. “Jaime,” she mewed, her hands fisting his golden hair and pulling him even closer to her. “Gods Jaime…”

He kissed and touched exactly where she needed him, inhaling her scent and drinking greedily until she came with a loud cry. Jaime looked up from between her legs, lips glistening from her wetness, and smiled at the tall woman sweeter than anyone ever had before. When he opened his mouth to tell her how incredible it had been, a loud obnoxious blaring filled her bedroom.

Brienne woke up gasping with a slick wetness between her legs and for a moment she was rather confused as to what just happened and then she felt a fleeting disappointment that it hadn’t been real when the realization it was nothing more than a dream hit. After the disappointment came the heart wrecking guilt. Tormund was sleeping beside her, snoring softly with his arm wrapped around her waist, oblivious to her dreamt desires. Brienne shut off the alarm on her phone and sat up. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her long arms around them, willing the butterfly’s in her stomach to flutter away and that all too familiar ache between her legs to disappear.

Jaime was a criminal, she arrested him, he had a… situation with his sister that he needed to work out, and most importantly Sansa hated him, even if she didn’t understand the whole story. How could she be dreaming about the tall handsome man that destroyed, unintentionally, her best friend's family? Not to mention Brienne had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who in the next few weeks was going to start moving his stuff in. She couldn’t be dreaming about other guys, his employee at that. It was wrong, she knew it was wrong. 

It was wrong… And yet she had gone out to coffee with him, she spotted him at the gym, she had dinner with him… 

It was nothing too romantic; it was during the weekday, they ate at a casual Dornish place late enough for them not to be the only ones in there but early enough that he was still back at the Onion House by eight. They talked about their childhoods over appetizers (Jaime told her how before college he actually wanted to be a cop but his father forced him in the directions of stocks and bonds while Brienne told him the story about how having a police officer as a father made her a pariah in school.) They talked about their college days over dinner (Jaime laughed when she stared open mouthed and eyes wide after he told her he signed up for internet classes for all his English courses and just gave his brother the login info and had Tyrion take all the tests and do all the homework for him. Brienne blushed as she muttered through a story of getting so drunk the night the Tarth Sunbursts won the World Series for the first time in a hundred and ten years that she climbed onto the shower fully dressed and passed out with the water still running). 

Then during dessert they chatted about more recent more unpleasant happenings, like how Jaime hasn’t heard from his father since he went in and that it was actually his uncle Kevin who vouched to the parole board that Jaime had a job waiting for him when he got out, and Brienne told him about how the city had been considering putting her up for a commendation for arresting a female arsonist that burnt several Septons alive but Tarly refused to sign off on it.

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the name of her superior officer. “Tarly?”

“My captain.”

“I knew a Sam Tarly in prison,” Jaime explained. “He was a nice kid, got busted for stealing manuscripts out of a museum.”

“Randall’s son. I met him a few times, really smart boy. There were a… Lot of discrepancies with that investigation.”

“Did Tarly try to get his son free?”

She shook his head. “It was like he was doing everything to try to get his son  _ convicted _ . He wouldn’t let anyone check out his sons alibi, he wouldn’t pay for Sam’s lawyer and he made too much money for a public defender so he was forced to represent himself and the forensic examiner who handled the fingerprints on the case not only wasn’t certified to handle historical documents but he showed up to work the day after the guilty plea with a brand new cherry red Valerian sports car.”

“So… what, you think Tarly  _ wanted _ Sam in prison?”

“I can’t say for certain but I’ve always thought so.”

After dinner Brienne gave him a ride back to his halfway house with a few minutes to spare so Jaime and her sat in her car just talking, the conversation flowing as natural and easy as it had the rest of the night. It was a nice change of pace, she had to admit, to have a man actually be genuinely interested in conversation with her, to not insert a not so subtle sexual comment every other sentence, to tell her she looked quite nice in the carefully choosen outfit (a silky navy blue blouse that gave her the illusion of having a chest and dark colored jeans that slimmed her hips) without obnoxiously ooging her.

When it was ten minutes to eight, Jaime leaned back against the seat and sighed, looking over at her with a sad sort of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”

“I don’t want you too either,” she confessed quietly, as of just thinking the words much less saying them out loud was akin to a full blown affair. “But it’s almost curfew.”

Jaime chuckled softly and then a moment later he reached up and pushed a stray blonde lock behind her ear. “You’re very diligent arent you? Very responsible.”

“I try to be.” She couldn’t get her voice above a shaky whisper.

“Unlucky for me then, I guess…”

“Why unlucky?”

Jaime leaned in closer. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounded hard against her ribs and her large hands started to tremble. “Because I’m the least responsible choice you’ll ever encounter.” 

He grabbed hold of her hand and brought the back of it to his lips like the knights and lords of old used to do to their ladies, emeralds meeting sapphires all the while. Without another word Jaime got out of the car and headed into the halfway house, leaving her more than bewildered at what just happened.

_ It was just dinner,  _ she told herself the few minutes she sat in the car unable to get her mind right to be able to drive.  _ It was just a friendly dinner between two acquaintances, it meant nothing, nothing happened. _

Once she got her heart and breathing to settle somewhat she drove home where Tormund was waiting for her. He told her she looked nice and when he asked where she had been she simply answered, ‘dinner with a friend’ and went off to take a shower, spending the rest of the night convincing herself she was happy with the red head sitting beside her and telling herself over and and over that she most definitely didn’t want Jaime sleeping beside her instead of him and that things in her life were going fine.

Truly.

Which was the same thing she was telling herself now as she got herself ready for the gym,  _ the gym he lets you use without charge,  _ she reminded herself guiltily as she pulled on a clean sports bra. 

Tormund woke several minutes before she left and greeted the day by wrapping his arms around her from behind and nuzzling at her neck. “Morning, Blue Eyes.”

“Morning.” She pushed away the residual guilt from the dream and spun in his arms to give him a proper kiss. “You’re up late,” he said, lightly swaying her in his arms. “Usually you’re gone by the time I get up. You don’t have to work today?”

“Tormund, I told you I had the day off.” 

“You did? Oh shit today was- yeah okay, my bad.

Brienne took a deep breath and forced a smile. It was was fine he forgot. Again. Truly. It’s not like they had any serious plans or anything. Well, she had planned to make them breakfast. Then she made reservations at a lunch spot that didn’t have peanut shells on the floor, a rarity for Tormund, and then dinner and a movie but it was fine. Truly. Anyone could forget that today was one of the times they both had a day off together.

“Anyway; I’m gonna head to the gym, I’ll be back by nine, then I’m gonna make us breakfast so don’t eat anything okay?”

“Sure thing.” He gave her another kiss and then headed over and flopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote. Out of the corner of the eye she saw the same plate, fork and cup he left there from the night before from dinner. The same plate she asked him to put into the dishwasher before he headed off to bed.

But it was fine. Truly. She could just soak it, the dried on food would come right off.

“Hey Tormund,” Brienne said as she grabbed a light jacket from her hall closet. 

“Yeah, Blue Eyes?”

“Remember me asking you to rinse those dishes off last night and put them in the dishwasher?”

Tormund blinked and then he clicked his tongue and nodded. “Right you did. I’m sorry, Brie, I was just super tired when I came to bed.”

“It’s fine but would you mind filling up the sink and putting them in to soak for a bit? I’ll wash them when I get back, it’s just the foods kinda dried on now and those blue ones are my favorite.”

He smiled at her. “Sure thing.”

“Thank you.” Brienne went over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” Another quick kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

It was her day off which meant instead of her usual twice a day strenuous workout she did some light cardio in the morning and called it a day. It was too early for anyone else to be there which meant she could run on the treadmill in total peace and quiet, just her headphones effectively blocking out any thoughts of the green eyed man. 

An hour later as she was locking back up the sun was shining not yet exceedingly hot like it would be later the afternoon but was still warm, a light breeze was helping cool her down, the birds were chirping, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky… It was already shaping out to be a pretty good day. 

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and a familiar voice call out her name. 

And her whole day was ruined.

Her whole body went as rigid as a board and she had to take a deep breath before she allowed herself to turn and look down at the man in front of her in his police uniform.

“Hey, Brienne,” Hyle said with a friendly smile that she wanted to slap off him.

“Hyle,” she said stiffly without a single hint of affection. Her eyes fluttered to his shoulders and she pursed her lips at the three yellow stripes on his shoulder. “You made sergeant.”

Hyle quickly brought his hand up and covered the stripes as if that could take away what she’d already seen. “Yeah. Yeah I got promoted last year actually…”

“Congratulations are in order then, I suppose.” Brienne didn’t even attempt to keep the bitterness from her tone.

“Brienne-.”

“It was good seeing you.”

She quickly turned away from him and started to walk away but he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. Whipping back around, Brienne wrenched his hand from his grasp and narrowed her eyes at the man standing before her. “Don’t touch me again.”

He raised his hands as it to prove he wouldn’t. What she once thought was a relitively attractive face she could no longer stand to look at.

“Brienne, please… Okay I- I’m sorry.” His hazel eyes were pleading with her to listen to him and believe him. “I never should have-... I- I wanted to call you-.”

“Would you have called me before or after your meetings with Internal Affairs?”

“Don’t be like that,” he begged. “If I had known what would happen-.”

“Oh please you knew EXACTLY what was going to happen you just didn’t care.”

“Everything alright?” Brienne and Hyle both turned and saw Jaime walking over to them, looking between the two officers. “Brienne, you okay?” he asked once he approached them.

“Sir, this doesn’t concern you,” Hyle told the newcomer sharply and Brienne rolled her eyes.

“Just get out of here, Hyle.”

“Brienne-.”

“ _ Go.” _

Hyle opened his mouth to say something but instead he just sighed and walked away from her, head bowed and hands deep in his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Jaime asked again once they were alone. “Who was that?”

“That was my old partner.” She was surprised at the shake in her voice and she did her best to wash it away. “You two actually met once.”

The realization came quick. “He was at the diner that night.”

Brienne nodded. “He must not have recognized you but yeah Hyle... He was my partner.”

“I see. I take it you two didn’t part on good terms?”

“That would be putting it mildly.” 

Knowing he would want an explication, as much as she knew it would guilt him, she told the story of how after Cersei and his arrest she and Hyle had been harassed and targeted. Her partner took it for a while, even standing by Brienne for a time, but when rumors started to swirl that they might be transferred out of Kingslanding; Hyle spent half the day in Randall’s office and then the next day he went to IAB and said he might have seen Brienne pull the drugs out of her own pocket and plant them on Jaime and Cersei both but he couldn’t be sure. However the next day Jaime and Cersei told the court they would be willing to plead guilty which meant that the allegation had been proven false before they could even start the investigation.

So Hyle went back after another long talk with Tarly and told the investigator that he and Brienne slept together which, seeing as she was a rank above him, was a BIG no no. The IAB agent ‘investigated’ the allegation and somehow found enough proof to demote her even though it was Hyles word against hers. By the time she was done with her suspension he had already transferred out and the two of them hadn’t spoken since.

After she finished Jaime was staring at her slack jawed and wide eyed. A faint blush colored her cheeks and she stared down at the ground. “He… they can just take your demotion? Just like that?”

She nodded. “They couldn’t prove that I planted the drugs so he made up the lie that we had sex. I couldn’t prove him wrong plus we hung out a lot after work, we got drinks together a few times which meant he had a lot of texts and photos of us that he could use as ‘evidence’.”

“But you and him never…?”

“Not one time,” she said quickly. “I was a rank above him first off,  _ and _ he was my partner. It wouldn’t have been right. Plus I worked hard for my sergeants stripes, I wouldn’t have jeopardized them for sex.”

Jaime sighed and ran a hand through his golden hair. “I-... I’m so sorry, Brienne. I didn’t… it’s not right. It’s not fair, I never wanted all this to happen to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quickly. “Hyle is an opportunist, he saw a way to steer clear of the shit heap the arrest put on me and he took it. I just… I wish me and Hyle weren’t as close as we were,” Brienne admitted. “It would have hurt less coming from someone I didn’t consider a friend.”

“I’m sorry,” he said with as much honestly as a man could speak with. “I really am. I would have… I don’t know what I could have done to prevent that but I WILL fix it.”

“No, Jaime, don’t. You don’t need to do anything for me, they’ll give me my stripes back eventually.” She wished she felt as confident about that as she sounded. “They have to and if not then I’ll stay an officer the rest of my career, it’s fine.”

“But you deserve your rank,” he told her. “More than anyone I know, you  _ deserve _ to have good things happen to you.”

“Jaime-.”

“I’ll talk to Tyrion. He’s not my father, he doesn’t have the whole bloody city in his pocket, but he does have a lot of connections of his own.” He reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder. His touch was warmer then the early summer sun beating down on them. “I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

Her brain and thoughts felt too thick to manage as much as a syllable in response to that so instead she just asked him what he was doing there so early.

Turns out Jaime promised Tormund that he would be there when the new shoulder press arrived this morning which meant an hour or so of looking for paperwork in the cramped crowded office so, rather reluctantly, she wished him good luck and left him to go back home to the man Jaime owed everything too.

She made a quick stop at the market near her apartment. Tormund also had the day off so she figured she might as well make them both a decent breakfast instead of the usual cup of coffee on her end and cold cereal on his. She got a package of sausages for him, turkey bacon for her, a bottle of syrup and then a box of pancake mix along with a tiny container of fresh blueberries, all the while she shopped her mind was full of the promise Jaime made and what Hyle did to her and what Tormund wouldn’t do for her and what she knew Jaime would. 

Any relaxing she managed to get done during the gym was now totally gone from her mind and when she walked back into her apartment her nerves were shot and she couldn’t remember why she choose to make breakfast for them when a hot soak in the tub sounded worlds better.

But she promised Tormund breakfast the night before so when she opened the door she wore a smile and was about to greet him with a cheerful ‘I’m back’. 

And then she saw the plate. And the fork. And the cup; all on the floor by the couch where they were last night and this morning. The plate and fork and cup he promised to put into a sink of dish water. Not wash, she wouldn’t make him go that far, but just run a sink full of hot soapy water and put them in. That was it.

Tormund looked over at where Brienne stood frozen and smiled at her. “Hey, Blue Eyes. You get the stuff for breakfast?”

Brienne blinked, not looking away from the dishes. “Yeah. Yeah, I um-... Yeah.” She walked over and snatched up the dishes by the couch.

It was fine. Truly. She could set breakfast aside for the moment and just do dishes, it wouldn’t take that long. Even though he promised her not once but twice to do this. Even though he didn’t even flinch when she picked up the dishes next to his feet. Even though she had a meal to cook, what was a few minutes to do a couple of dishes?

It was… It would be fine.

Brienne turned on the water and began to wash out the sink. “I um… I ran into Hyle Hunt outside the gym. They promoted him to sergeant.”

“Good for him,” Tormund said without turning away from the TV as she began scouring the plate. “He a friend of yours?

_It’s fine._ _Truly_. _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, everything’s fine. It’s fine._

_ Truly. _

**_!CRASH!_ **

Tormund jumped up from the couch as the sound of the dirty plate that she slammed down in the metal sink shattering filled the apartment. Her hands shook as she rounded on him, angry tears falling from her eyes. “No, Tormund,” she barked at the bewildered red head. “Hyle Hunt is not my friend. Not that I would expect you to remember what he did to me since you can’t even remember to put your bloody dishes in the FUCKING sink!” she yelled, throwing the dirty fork at him.

“Mother above, what is your problem?!” he demanded, agasht as the silverware bounced off his chest and onto the carpet. “What are you so mad abo-...” Relization hit him at once and his icy blue eyes went wide. “Oh… Blue Eyes, I-.”

“Shut up with your stupid nickname! You don’t care about anything tell you, you don’t care about what I ask, you don’t care about me at all!”

“Look will you calm down! I’m sorry, I forgot his name, it happens

“No! No I won’t  _ calm down _ , I won’t!” She wiped at the tears streaming down her face and motioned around her apartment. “Okay this- this is not fine, Tormund, none of this is fine! You refusing to clean up after yourself is not fine, you slapping my ass constantly even though I tell you constantly not to is not fine, you letting me think I had to go down on you to get Jaime a better shift is not fine, you not giving a flying FUCK about ANYTHING I tell you about my life is not fine!”

“Where in the seven hells is all this even coming from?!” he barked as he stormed over to her. “You’re going crazy because I forgot the name of the guy who had you demoted!”

“That is NOT it, and you know it’s not! Okay I’m not- I’m not happy Tormund!” She let out a sob and ran her trembling hands through her hair. “I am not happy, and I am NOT fine!”

The anger and shock melted from his face replaced by guilt and sadness that, for a moment, ate away at her, but that weight that’s been on her shoulders for months finally seemed to be lifting off her pound by pound and she wouldn’t let herself stop now. “I haven’t been fine in a very long time,” she told him, lowering her voice to a whisper but the tears were coming faster and faster.

“Blue Eyes, I-... I’m sorry,” he told her as gentle as he’s oever spoke to her before. “I’ll do better, Brienne. I will.” 

For a moment she believed him. For a moment she thought it was worth going back to what they had, telling herself she was okay, telling herself she was fine, telling herself that it would get better, that it was worth ignoring the constant headaches and heartaches and everything else that came along with him. 

But when Tormund reached for her hand she found herself stepping back from him and wrapping her arms around herself and bowing her head.

“I think you should leave,” she muttered, praying to the Seven that he wouldn’t fight her.

For the the first time, probably since they first began dating, he listened to her. She closed her eyes, the sound of his retreating footsteps with the opening and shutting the door drawing fourth more tears. Brienne sank down the wall, and a sob ripped past her lips, one of sorrow but also deeply entrained in her tears was the feeling of relief as well.

Nothing was fine. At all.

But it would be.

—-

“I can’t believe you’re getting out next week. I thought you had to serve a minimum of 2 years?”

Olenna clicked her tongue and rested her weathered hand on her granddaughters face. The guard knew better then to tell Olenna she wasn’t allowed to touch anyone she was visiting.

“Oh Sweetheart... do you really have that little faith in your grandmother?”

Margaery chuckled as Olenna folded her hands on top of the table and looked between her grandson and granddaughter. “You’ve taken care of the apartment right?”

“Yeah it’s all set up, everything’s ready to go.” Margaery smiled sweetly at her brother. “Loras even had his new boyfriend paint the whole place.”

“Oh ho! A boyfriend?” Olenna grinned at the boy who was staring down at the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A deep blush painted Loras’ face. “I-... I um-... I, I haven’t told-... I’m not really  _ out  _ yet...”

The old woman shrugged. “Why not? Are you ashamed of him?” He shook his head. “Are you ashamed of yourself? Do you think I’ll start reciting the Seven Pointed Star at you? Do you think I care about what some old book written by some old man who liked to fuck little boys says?”

“No Grandmother, I-.”

“Then why are you blushing?” Olenna smirked. “You think these old bones haven’t run around with a few hens inbetween the cocks?”

“Grandmother, stop!” Margaery laughed and besides her the corner of Loras’ lips tugged upwards. Olenna reached out and clasped his hand in hers.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dear. Now come on; tell me about this new boyfriend. Does he have a good heart, a gentle hand? Does he have any money?”

Two hours later with promises that they would see her on her bright and early on her release date, Olenna made her way back to her cell with a smile on her careworn face. 

It had been a year and a half in this godforsaken building, eating the same shit meal, dressed in the same shit clothes, seeing the same shit people day in and day out. Finally her contacts on the outside, coupled with her grandchildren’s likeminded intuitively, managed to get in touch with the right people and Olenna would be out a whole six months before her minimum was reached. 

The grey haired woman made her way back to her cell, freezing only for a moment when she saw two young girls standing guard in front of the door and the unmistakeable sounds of Cersei crying out in pain and fists hitting flesh.

She squared her shoulders and walked over to her cell.

“Occupied,” one of the girls, a young Dornish beauty said sharply, moving in closer to block her view. 

Olenna just chuckled. “Honey, I’ve been burying bodies since before your mother was off the tit.” She leaned in closer to the brown haired girl. “You don’t scare me.”

Pushing past them without so much as a blink of an eye, Olenna walked into her cell, clapping her hands together loud enough to get Yara’s attention. Cersei was pinned up against the wall, fresh bruises on her face and blood gushing from her nose and from a cut on her lip and Yara was standing in front of her, fists bruised and bloodied. 

The Greyjoy raised a brow at the older woman who simply smiled at her. “Forgive me but I don’t recall inviting you into my cell.”

“I don’t recall needing permission,” Yara said, slowly pulling away from Cersei and letting the blonde drop to the floor.

“If you want, perhaps I can call one of the guards in. Maybe they can help you remember some of the rules. You know like the rules about coming into cells uninvited, rules about beating other inmates… or maybe rules against keeping your entire stash hidden in Ajax canisters in the utility closet behind the mop pads.” Olenna was delighted to see a flash of fear in Yaras eyes. She took a casual step towards the younger woman. “Or maybe I simply tell them that you bore me by simply exsisting, which is the worst crime of them all. Trust me, Greyjoy; theres not a guard or inmate in this prison who wouldn’t give their right hand to keep me entertained and watching the light leave your eyes would VERY much entertain me…”

Yara masked whatever terror was left in her expression and she stormed up to an amused Olenna, standing nose to nose with her. Neither one of them blinked, neither one of them even breathed. The younger woman leaned in close and whispered, “you just made the biggest mistake of your life, old woman…”

“I’ve lived a  _ very _ long life, my dear, and have made many mistakes during it. Pissing you off, I assure you, is not one of them…”

The state off ended when Yara walked out of the cell, talking in low muttered voices to the two guards.

“Never trust a Greyjoy,” Olenna sighed, walking over to Cersei and grabbed her by the elbow, hoisting her to her feet and letting the younger woman lean on her for support for a moment before she dropped her down on the bottom bunk and sat down beside her. Olenna offered her a handkerchief and Cersei took it without comment, wiping away the blood from her lip and nose.

“I had it handled,” the blonde muttered after a while.

“No no, your perky attitude is thanks enough,” she said dryly. Olenna sighed, pushing a golden lock from her face, being careful not to touch any of the bruises that littered the pale skin. “Why did you ever get involved with that idiot?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You could have stayed a customer. You didn’t need to get caught up in the buisness.”

“Yeah well.” Cersei whimpered in pain as she laid down on the bunk. “Hindsight is 20/20 I guess.”

Olenna covered her up with the thin wool blanket on her bed and stroked her cell mates golden hair. “You have three months left. That’s all. Just go to the CO’s and ask to be put in protective custody.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll kill me when I get out.” Tears flooded her eyes. “And Jaime doesn’t even care…”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t. He’d rather work at that stupid gym then help me. He thinks he’s better then me because he got sober and he got out. Well he’s not better then me, he’s worthless without his hand, he’s a coward and the stupidest Lannister, everyone in the family knows it.”

Olenna raised a grey brow at the woman laying on her bed. She could never imagine Margaery talking about Loras like that, no matter how angry she was. She could never picture a sister who loves their brother, especially in the way the rumor mill said the twins ‘loved’ eachother, talking about him like that.

“I just wanna sleep,” Cersei muttered, nuzzling into the thin foam pillow. “I just wanna sleep and forget about Yara and Jaime and everyone else.”

“I take it you’ll be taking the bottom bunk today?”

Cersei chuckled softly but made no other movement, said nothing else and minutes later she was fast asleep. The older woman pulled up the chair, grabbed her book and sat by the bed, effectively guarding and protecting her cellmate until it was time for supper. She shook Cersei awake, thinking some food might do her good (even if it was prison food). She awoke with a groan and a promise to meet her at their usual table and when she staggered over to the thick hardcover book she kept under her pillow on the top bunk, Olenna saw a glint of the needle she kept hidden within. Shaking her head, the older woman promised to grab her an extra pudding if they had any and made her way to the chow hall.

Several minutes later Cersei walked in and sat down across from Olenna, eyes glossy and speech slightly slurred. She muttered a thank you for the pudding and just as she went to take a bite of the chocolate concoction there was a loud commotion from one side of the room. Two girls were fighting, scratching, hitting, yanking one another’s hair and Olenna groaned in annoyance as, like it always did in these situations, a fight between two girls soon erupted into fights between the gangs both belonged to, and then the other gangs not involved would try to get in their punches on their enemies who also weren’t involved, and then the outliars who had individual problems to work out were launching themselves at one another.

Olenna rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she sat there and ate her pudding, ignoring the screaming and fighting and alarms. A bunch of silly little uninteresting girls getting into scrapes over nothing, with nothing coming out of it for added time and a few bruises to show off to their families. Her Margaery knew words and secrets solved problems not fists and Loras, well, he was a hot headed sword swallower but she loved every inch of him and he had far more sense then these girls had. Gods above she couldn’t wait to get out of here. She would walk out of there in five days, she would hug her granddaughter, kiss her grandson, and have a peaceful quiet mean in a peaceful quiet apartment.

As Olenna went to take another bite of pudding, amused at the antics and going’s on of the chow hall, that dream came crashing down in the time it took to blink.

Olenna didn’t see who it was. She didn’t see the assailant and she didn’t hear their footsteps as they walked behind her.

But she felt the shank entering her back over and over, again and again, eight times in total. She saw Cersei’s wide emerald eyes and terrified expression, she heard her chair fly backwards as Olenna fell to the ground, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Moments later she felt thin arms wrap around her, she felt Cersei cradling her head in her lap, she felt the younger girls tears fall on her face…

And the last thing Olenna Tyrell saw in this world, when she looked over across the chow hall, was Yara Greyjoy standing untouched in the chaos which seemed to have slowed remarkably since Olenna had been stabbed, smirking, with a bloody shiv in hand…

Please Review


	12. Jaime VII

**_You are receiving a call from Kingslanding Maximum Security Correctional Facility from inmate,_ ** “Cersei Lannister,” his sisters voice interrupted the robocall.  **_To accept this call, please press or say five now. To block this number, please press or say seven now._ **

“Five,” said Jaime, getting up from his chair to shut the door to the tiny cramped office to give him some privacy. “Hey, Cersei,” he greeted her once he knew she was on the line.

“She's gone!” his sister sobbed into the phone, voice slurred beyond almost all recognition. “She’s gone, she’s dead!”

“What? Cersei what are you talking about?” he demanded, any friendly casualness he answered with long gone. “What happened, who died?”

“Olenna!” she yelled back as if she already answered the question a thousand times. “She- She’s dead, she tried to protect me and they killed her, Jaime! They killed her, she-!” Any other words the blonde woman attempted were indistinguishable thanks to her cries and gasping.

Jaime fell back into his chair as her words sank in. 

Olenna Tyrell was dead. The woman who embezzled millions of dragons and got away scot free, who blackmailed politicians and VIPs, mob bosses and lawyers, who had just as many people in her pockets as Tywin Lannister did with a much higher body count, (or so it was rumored but never confirmed.) It would be suicide to so much as blink in her direction without permission but apparently someone had, and he had a sickening feeling he knew exactly who that ‘someone’ was.

“Cersei, calm… calm down okay? Please?” he begged but he might as well have tried to reason with the paperweight for all the good it did him. She was gasping, panicking, hyperventilating, she could barely breathe through the sobs. “Cersei, you need to take a deep breath and talk to me. Tell me what happened.” 

When pleading didn’t work, he took a deep breath and began to sing a lullaby their mother used to sing to them and one of the only ways he knew to get her to come back down when her high took her too far up. “And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low,” he sang soft and sweetly into the phone. He could barely hear himself over her suffocating weeping. “Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know… come on Cersei, what’s the next verse,” he urged her.

“In a coat of- of gold,” she gasped out, her breath coming in frantic gulps. “or a coat… a coat- Jaime, she-!”

“The line, Cersei,” he cut her off gently. “What’s the line?”

He could see her lip trembling, see her hand shaking as she ran it through her thin listless hair that had once been thick and gold and beautiful, fighting for the breath that would let her speak. “A coat of- of gold, a coat of red, a- a lion still has claws...”

“And mine are long and sharp, My Lord,” Jaime urged her on

“As- as long and sharp as yours…” she finished, her words and gasps finally beginning to slow.

“And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere… Cersei?”

“But now the- the rains weep o'er his hall.” Her uncontrollable weeping finally mellowed into gentle tears that he could picture slowly falling down her pale s hollow face. “With no one there to hear.”

“Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,” they finished together, “and not a soul to hear…”

He heard her take one final deep breath and when she released it Jaime tried again. “Now…” he said, gently but firmly. “What happened to Olenna?”

She told him about how ‘someone’ (she knew the COs were listening in and wouldn’t hesitate to use her words to place a name to the crime) came into her cell and attacked her and how Olenna stood up to her, mentioning she knew where ‘someone’ kept all the soap she sold. Then later that night during dinner two of the girls started a fight and while the guards were concentrating on breaking that up that same someone walked over and stabbed the old woman who had less than two weeks left on her sentence.

Jaime ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe this. An old woman, a very dangerous well connected one sure but still an old woman, murdered because she stood up to Yara, his sister beaten because he wouldn’t sneak in drugs and risk imprisonment again. 

“Cersei you… you need to tell a guard what happened,” he urged her, speaking in a low mutter incase any of Yaras girls were around the phone banks and could hear him. “This is getting out of control, people are dying, you’re already getting hurt…”

“I can’t.”

“Cersei, please.”

“Everything will be fine.” Her voice softened into a sensuous purr, one Jaime knew meant she was about to ask him to do something. “You just… you have to do what Euron says okay?” She did her best to sound sensual but there was a fearful quiver beneath the surface. “Do what he says, and I’ll be fine.”

Jaime bowed his head. He wanted to tell her yes, he wanted to tell her he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, to protect her, to do whatever he could to save her. Tears filled his emerald green eyes at the thought of Cersei locked in that hell-hole alone, no real friends, no family and the one person that had been on her side was now dead and buried. 

What kind of man couldn’t protect his lover? What kind of brother couldn’t protect his sister? 

“Cersei, I-... you need to go to the guards,” he begged. “Please. They can help you, they can put you in protective custody, you have three months left they can-.”

“No!” Her tone changed from honeyed wine to bitter poison. “I don’t need to go to the guards, I need you to step up and be a fucking man for once! I need you to stop being such a huge disappointment to me and this fucking family!”

_ Mr. Lannister, is it possible one of your partners were unfaithful? _

“You’re high,” he said blankly. “Call me when you’re sober or you’ve done the right thing and gone to the guards. I won’t go back to jail, Cersei; not for you, not for anyone. Not when you have an option to clean up this mess you made.”

“Jaime, I swear to the Mother-!”

With a single push of the button he hung up the phone. He buried his now calloused hands in his hair. His throat became unbearably dry and it hurt to swallow, his hands began to shake and a familiar urge began to slowly creep up on him that he forced back down with a snarl as he stood up from the desk and paced the small office.

He wouldn’t let this win, he wouldn’t let his addiction win, not for Euron, not for Yara, not for a cheater who didn’t think his sobriety was worthy of a simple ‘I’m proud of you’. Jaime called Davos first but there was no answer, and then after two failed attempts he called Sandor who went straight to voicemail. Fuck. No no no he needed a sponsor, he needed someone to talk too, someone who could talk him down and help him the way he had talked down Cersei.

_ Sixty minutes,  _ he reminded himself, telling himself the same thing he told himself every time since that first NA meeting in prison when he learned this particular trick.  _ Sixty minutes is the average time it takes to beat a craving. You don’t want to throw your life away because you can’t stick it out for sixty minutes… Fuck sixty minutes is a long time though. _

He took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, forcing himself not to fidget. 

_ First things first, you need to acknowledge what’s happening. _ “I am having a craving,” Jaime muttered to himself. “I am an addict and I have a craving.” 

_ What are you feeling _ ? Pins and needles stabbed up and down his useless left arm while his remaining palm grew cold and clammy. His throat was dry but his hands were shaking too hard to reach out and grab his water bottle for a drink.

The prosthetic strapped to his arm was far too heavy and even though the soft silky cloth and cushioning the expensive useless hunk of metal and plastic seemed to be rubbing his stump raw. Jaime quickly discarded it, flexing his phantom fingers before he got up and hurried out to the machines.

“You don’t need it,” he muttered to himself as he situated himself into the leg lift and began his regiment, taking care to make sure his form was perfect so he could focus on that rather than the demanding need he refused to give into. “You don’t need it, you don’t need it, you don’t need it...”

By the time he was done, every one of his muscles ached with a pleasant burn but the craving was long gone and forgotten. Jaime stripped off his sweat soaked shirt as he made his way back into the tiny office to sit in front of the fan for a little bit but when he got back to the private space he saw Briemme dressed in jeans and a shirt quickly digging through the messy desk, thoroughly engrossed in the task at hand, not looking up until he called her name. 

Her face burnt red with crimson as her eyes quickly, but not quick enough that he wasn’t able to catch her, drank in his well muscled body glistening with sweat from his impromptu workout before she turned away from him. He smirked at the blonde as he took a long swallow of the water bottle on the desk, making sure to lick the stray drops on his lips with his tongue and watching as her skin flushed hotter as she watched him out of the corner of her dazzling blue eyes.

“I thought Tormund said you found another gym,” he said as he grabbed a towel and dabbed at the back of his neck. That had been the explanation the red head offered at least, with a miserable grumble three days prior and a wiping away of tears. 

Jaime did his best to hide his heartbreak and disappointment when Tormund shared the news. He and Brienne had exchanged numbers and traded a few texts and calls back and fourth (more than a few if he was being honest). But the best part of this job was seeing her every day, watching her smooth fluid graceful movements as she worked in the free weights, hearing her unmistakable grunts, talking time to talk to her afterwards… Knowing he wouldn’t get to see her nearly every day as almost torture. 

“I- I am, I did,” she replied, still clearly flustered with the half naked man in front of her. Jaime chuckled low in his throat before he grabbed a spare shirt from his bag and pulled it on, deciding he tortured her enough for the day. “I just, I was just picking up some stuff I left here.”

Jaime nodded slowly. “Why do I have a feeling this is more than just a gym changeover?”

She almost looked guilty as she grabbed a blue travel mug patterned with golden suns and silver crescent moons off the desk. “Tormund and I, we… we’re taking a break.”

“A break or a  _ break  _ break?”

“A  _ break _ break.” Brienne bent over and reached under the desk so she could grab a dark pink and black lifting belt and a set of matching gloves. Jaime let himself enjoy the view for a moment before he turned away. “A permanent break, I think,” she continued as she straightened back out. 

_ Oh. Well. This is interesting. _

“I’m sorry,” he told her once she was looking at him again. “I really am.”

“Thank you but it was a long time coming.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no. I’m just… I feel relieved,” Brienne admitted. “But then I feel guilty that I feel relieved.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about this, you” He shook his head. “Never mind, you don’t want the guy who had  _ issues _ with his sister offering commentary on your relationship,” he said with a humorless laugh.

“Yes I do.” And the laughter died as quick as it was born. The faint pale blush was back. “I- I value your opinion, Jaime,” she admitted in an embarrassed mutter. “On many things. You know me, you know Tormund, if you had an opinion to share of course I would welcome it.”

That made him pause. No one had ever told him his opinion had value, no one ever asked for his advice; he got his BA and MBA with the skin of his teeth, and he always seemed to move slower than his brother and father when it came to the fortune five hundred company that was supposed to go to him one day (another thing he was grateful to Brienne for. The arrest got him kicked out of the boardroom of Lannister Holding LLC Inc once and for all. As of now Tyrion, as much as Tywin hated it, was the only one left in line to be CEO.) But he was the stupidest Lannister, Cersei always said so, but here was this woman, this woman who had NO business trusting him much less his judgement, was asking for his opinion on the matter of her relationship (which, to be fair, would absolutely be a biased take.)

Jaime cleared his throat before he motioned to himself. “I’m in no position to judge ANY relationship but… Tormund has a LOT to learn about respect and decency,” he said. “And I think you need to realize your extraordinary worth and value because if you did; you wouldn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty for leaving him, nor should you. You should be with someone who respects you, who respects your thoughts, who respects your body, who listens to you when you talk, who feels alive and drunk on sunlight just because you’re near him.” He finished with a shrug, avoiding her big blue wide eyes. “That’s my take on it at least.”

Her mouth opened once, twice, quite a few times as she fought to find the right response to that rather poetic proclamation. Her cheeks went red with blush. “You… you- you’re quite... thank you, Jaime,” she finally managed in a nervous stammer. 

He chuckled and nodded. “You’re welcome. I understand why you need to leave but I’m going to miss seeing you around here, you gave me something to look forward to each day.”

“I’m going to miss seeing you too,” she admitted. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I mean we-... we don’t have to stop being around one another just because I don’t go to your gym.” 

_ This is dangerous. She’s a cop, I’m on parole, she’s my boss's ex… _ But as hard as he tried to talk himself out of this, the more he found that he didn’t care. So what if she was a cop? She was giving him the green light to go or stay, she was letting him decide. There were no rules against cops dating parolees (he green sighted it). But Tormund… Tormund who gave him a job no questions asked, who was trusting him with more responsibilities, who fired a long time employee because he almost got Jaime thrown back in jail, who promised to help find him an apartment once his time in the Onion House was over… He would be crushed. More than that, he might fire Jaime and he loved his job here, he was good at it, he loved his work… 

Was Brienne worth that risk? Was she worth the risk that Tormund would do the right thing 

The longer he looked at her, at her beautiful blue eyes and her feathery pale blonde hair and everything else that made her uniquely beautiful to him, the more he realized she just might be.

Jaime chose each word carefully, knowing exactly what this would start between the one time enemies. “I would like that; to be around you, I mean, outside of the gym.” Now for the big moment. “Maybe… we could be around each other at dinner this Friday? I could pick you up, we could get drinks after…”

Shock registered first, and then slowly it morphed into a shy little smile that melted his heart into a puddle. “I… I would like that,” she finally told him, and he let out the breath he had been holding and he smiled at her as well. “A lot, actually.” 

“Good. Because I’d like that too.”

“I hope so since you were the one who asked.”

Jaime chuckled as a child like excitement filled him to the brim. This would be the first  _ real  _ date he had with anyone in a very long time. Cersei didn’t count. Their ‘dates’ consisted of fucking in sleezy motel rooms and the occasional run down burger or pizza joint when he could convince her to eat something. Granted here he would have an 8 PM curfew so they couldn’t go too crazy but in three months he would be a TRULY free man again and he could take her on as long a date as they wanted.

Jaime took another long drink of water and pushed his still soaked hair from his face.

Brienne cocked her head at him. “So why were you working out so hard in the middle of your shift? You usually come in before to work out.”

Jaime gnawed at his lip. She may have been his friend who was  **_THIS_ ** close to becoming more, but she was still a cop; a cop who was ultimately responsible for Cersei and him going to prison. if he told her the truth of what was going on that could mean more time for Cersei, it could put his sister in danger, it could put him or Brienne in danger…

But he had to do something. The Greyjoys were killing people, they were hurting people… He had to do something, even if Cersei hated him for it.

“I um… I had a craving, a bad one,” he finally admitted. Jaime waited for the disgust on her face but she just asked him if he was alright now. He told her he was, that the workout had helped kick it. “But I just… I just got off the phone with Cersei. She um… her cellmate died,” he said quickly. “Yara Greyjoy killed Ollena Tyrell because she tried to protect Cersei from being beat.”

He watched her eyes grow wide and her hand flew to her mouth. “Olenna Tyrell, I… I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “I, I know- I knew her, her granddaughter dated my best friend in high school. And… and you’re saying Yara Greyjoy killed her?”

“She didn’t say any names but the context was clear. Yara, she… she and my sister used to run the drug trade in the women’s prison, but since I told them I won’t help them Cersei went from Lieutenant to whipping boy. Olenna tried to protect her, she told Yara she knows where she keeps her stash and then that night there was a small riot, none of the guards noticed Yara walking over and stabbing her.”

“Well maybe not at that moment but there’s cameras in every inch of that prison, they just have to look at the tape.”

“Not if the cameras in the chow hall just happened to somehow disconnect fifteen minutes before chow time and didn’t come back online after after the riot.”

She shook her head. “No… no, the COs wouldn’t do that. That’s one of the biggest rules in the prisons, you don’t mess with the cameras.”

_ She is such an innocent. _

“It’s also against the rules to rape or beat the inmates,” he said with a bitter smile, “or help smuggle in drugs and contraband or trade favors with us. That prison is corrupt as all Seven Hells, Brienne.”

“Is there any way Cersei can testify as to what she saw? I’m the DA would let her out three months early if she agreed.”

“She’s afraid of them retaliating,” he explained. “She thinks the only way to get this to stop is if I do what Euron says.”

Brienne ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I… Jaime, I can’t just ignore this,” she said rather apologetically. “Euron threatening your two is one thing but it’s escalated to murder, the murder of a VERY prominent woman who all but rivaled your father in regards to how many pockets she owns including multiple police. They're going to want this solved.”

“I know,” he said softly, doing his best to let her know there were no hard feelings. “But I really don’t think Cersei will testify to what she saw.”

“What if I went and talked to her? I know you said it was a bad idea,” she added quickly when Jaime opened his mouth to tell her just that. “She hates me and all that, but if you and I went together and you let her know she can trust me, that I swear it by the Old Gods and the New that I’ll protect her, do you think we have a shot?”

“Do people still swear by the Gods?”

The exasperated look she gave him almost made him want to laugh. “Do you trust me to make sure your sister says safe?”

“Of course I do! It’s just…” He gnawed at his lip as he looked down at the ground for a moment before he turned his gaze back at her face. “I’m not worried about you not being able to protect her.” Jaime spoke as softly as he dared. “I’m worried about her retaliating on you.”

The way her entire self just seemed to melt at his concern made him all the more worried. What chance did someone as soft and decent as Brienne have against his sister?

“I appreciate your concern,” Brienne said. She lifted her hand like she might grab his but thought better of it and lowered it at the last second. “Truly. But I can handle myself against anything she tries to throw at me. What  _ I’m _ most concerned about is your safety, Cersei’s as well. It’ll be fine, Jaime. I promise.”

Brienne was going to be late for her shift so she bid him goodbye after he promised to call her after he hammered out the details of their date, his heart did a little flutter at that word as did hers judging by the impossibly adorable shy smile she wore, and she told him she would pick him up at the Onion House the next morning so they could go talk to Cersei together.

Tormund came in half an hour after she left. When he noticed the missing blue travel mug his face fell. “Brienne was here?” he asked, heartbreak heavy in her words.

Jaime nodded. “She just grabbed her stuff and left, she didn’t stay long or say anything really.” He busied himself with paperwork so he could avoid looking him in the eye.

The massive red head nodded, pursing his lips and turning away from Jaime who bowed his head to give him a moment of privacy. 

“I fucked up, Lannister,” Tormund sniffed. “I had a good woman, the  _ best  _ woman. There’s no one like her in the world, and I’ll never find a woman like her again.”

“You may,” Jaime offered. “I mean she’s… to be honest she’s totally replaceable. There’s a hundred girls just like Brienne out there.” The words even  _ tasted _ like a lie. “Besides you own your own business, you have a great sense of humor, you’re built like a bloody mammoth… You’ll find someone else.”

“I won’t. Not ever.” The redhead took a trembling breath before he straightened out to his full height, an inch or two shorter than Jaime. “Which is fine. Because I’m gonna win my big woman back.”

_ Big woman? _

“I’m gonna get her back, she’s gonna forgive me for fucking up and then she’s gonna apologize for throwing a fit because I couldn’t remember some guys name and things will go back to the way they should be.”

_ You forgot the name of the man who got her demoted _ , he thought crossly.  _ And she didn’t ‘throw a fit,’ she had a right to be upset.  _ But rather than say that, Jaime just gave his boss an awkward smile and said he hoped things worked out for the best. 

The next day at precisely 7 AM Brienne showed up in front of the Onion House wearing her biggest boxiest unflattering jeans and hoodie with hopes, she explained, first so that no one would notice Cersei talking to a cop but also hoped that she wouldn’t find her much of a threat. 

“You could show up in a potato sack or in your Nameday suit it won’t matter, she’s going to hate you,” Jaime warned as they pulled into the prison parking lot. 

“Well she can hate me all she likes, she just has to tell me the truth,” Brienne said as they headed through the front door. She flashed her badge at the CO at the front desk before explaining who they were there to see and rather than be brought back to the visitation room he spent every other Saturday in they were instead led to a private room in the far back of the prison where inmates would talk to their attorneys. 

The room only had a scratched and worn out table with four chairs, two on either side, with the same bars making up the window and door as the rest of the prison. It was worlds away from the visitors room and their bright orange tables, clean and polished tiled floors, vending machines, regular windows and an open wooden door. He might as well have been in his cell again...

Jaime flinched as they steel door shut and locked as the guard went to retrieve Cersei. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself over and over he was free to leave at any time but the longer he sat there in that chair, the more distress and anxiety ate away at him. He began pacing back and forth, nearly gagging at the smell of the prison he would never be able to forget, cold metal and industrial cleaning solutions. In the distance two inmate shouted something at one another and Jaime felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t wanna come back here, he couldn’t, not now, not ever. How could Cersei ask him to risk this again? How could she ask him to risk coming back here even for a day? 

“Jaime?” Brienne’s voice broke through the painful memories. He turned and saw her rise from her seat, a look of worry on her plain pale face while his wore a look of distress and fear. 

He didn’t want to be here.

She reached out and took hold of his hands, flesh and fake alike, in hers. “You’re okay,” she told him gently but firmly. “You’re alright, you aren’t locked up. You aren’t a prisoner anymore, Jaime.”

“I know.” He cringed at the thickness in his voice. “I know, it’s just… there’s a lot of unpleasant memories here.”

“Do you want to leave?”

He shook his head, doing his best to take deep breaths. “She won’t listen to just you, I need to be here and just stick it out.”

“Jaime-.” Before she could finish her thought however the sound of the cell door unlocking and the heavy creaking of the iron door opening drew them out of the moment. Brienne quickly dropped his hands and both turned towards Cersei.

It seemed like she aged ten years since he saw her last, a whole month and a half ago when they got into their argument. Her eyes, which had been dazzling pools of emeralds shining in sunlight, had sunken in even further and looked dead and dull and lifeless. Her now lank and greasy golden hair was tied back in a low ponytail and she had lost even more of her one time voluptuous curves. Even more bruises, old and new, littered her face and her arms.

Her heavy bloodshot eyes looked first at Jaime and then Brienne, and he could see the wheels turning as she tried to remember where she had seen the tall woman before. Realization struck Cersei rather quickly as to who it was she was seeing again after nearly 3 years. Shock crossed her features which quickly gave way to a fiery storm of rage.

“What are you doing here?” she snarled at Brienne as the door shut and locked behind her. “What the FUCK are you doing here?!” she screamed.

“Cersei calm down,” Jaime urged her. “She’s here to help.”

His efforts did nothing to help defuse anything and Cersei circled the two of them akin to a lioness stalking prey with none of the subtlety or nuance a hunter might have. “You put me in prison! You lock me up for three years and you think you can come here to do what? Arrest me again?”

“Ms. Lannister, I-,” Brienne began but Cersei reared back and spit in the taller woman’s face before she could finish. 

The cop barely flinched, effectively ignoring the deathly glare Cersei was burning into her. “As I was saying, adding more time to your sentence is the last thing I want to do,” Brienne said as stoic as a still pond, calmly reaching up and wiping away the foul wetness from her face. “I’m here to do the opposite actually, I’m here to see if I can get you out early.”

Cersei laughed, a cold humorless sound that sent shivers down Jaime’s spine. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Hmm? Do you have a great big cock between your legs that you want me to suck? It wouldn’t surprise me by the look of you.”

“Cersei just stop,” Jaime begged with a sigh that went unheeded.

“Your brother told me about Olenna,” Brienne told her. “He told me about what Yaras been doing to you and what she wants Mr. Lannister to do as well.” 

Any cruel mirth his sister wore extinguished as quick as a snuff of a candle and was replaced by a look of shocked astonishment. “He what?”

“I can protect you,” she said, ignoring the question. “I swear it, no one will touch you. But you need to be willing to tell me what you saw and what happened and you need to be willing to testify as to what you saw.” 

Cersei’s breath came in short sharp waves. The shock had faded by now and her eyes narrowed first at Brienne and then at Jaime. “You told her?” she demanded, curling her hands into a trembling fist. “You snitched on me? To the miserable ugly cunt who put us in here in the first place?”

“He was only looking out for you,” Brienne answered quickly. “He’s scared for you, Ms. Lannister and so am I to be quite frank. I can offer you protection and safety, resources to get you clean if that’s what you want, but I promise you that-.”

Cersei slapped him. Hard. Her hand left a bright red mark on his face. Brienne moved as fast as a cracked whip, putting herself between the two Lannister’s. A fire he had never seen before burned bright in her big blue eyes.

“Touch your brother again and I will arrest you for assault,” the cop warned sharply. 

“You killed us,” Cersei snarled looking past the cop and ignoring any warning. “They’re going to find out you ratted and kill us, _you_ _fucking_ _idiot_!”

“Brienne can protect us,” Jaime protested. “You don’t need to be afraid of the Greyjoy’s, you can get out of here, all you need to do is tell the truth. Please, Cerse. This is the chance to do the right thing…”

Cersei looked between Jaime who accidentally revealed the two of them were on a first name basis, to the woman who had been so quick to protect him. The realization hit her hard and the look she wore had Jaime feeling terrified for the tall blonde cop. 

“You’re fucking her,” she said simply. It didn’t take a maester to be able to hear the blood chilling rage beneath her soft-spoken words. “You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

“Cersei, stop it!” Jaime ordered her sharply. It was only later that he would realize he probably should have denied it. “She wants to help get us out of the mess YOU started!”

“You are, you are fucking the woman who sent us to prison.”

“Ms. Lannister, all I want is to help,” Brienne said calmly, ignoring the accusations. “That’s all. If you just tell me-.”

“Did he tell you he fucked me too?” Jaime watched as Brienne, for all her stoic bravado she had while in uniform, burned bright red with blush at the comment. “The great redeemed Jaime Lannister, former addict now heroically sober, fucked his twin sister.” Her green eyes were full of a chilling malice as she licked her dry chapped lips. “And I hope you realize when he’s inside you with your face down and the lights off because he can’t stand to look at your disgusting face, all he’s thinking about is me.”

“Are you high or just stupid?” Jaime spat, doing his best not to blush as well. “Maybe I should just let Yara beat the shit out of you!”

“Jaime!” Brienne barked.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been hit and you didn’t do shit about it!” Cersei shouted. Tears welled in her eyes that she wiped them away with a shaking hand. “He killed my SON, Jaime! My SON and you didn’t even care! You don’t care about me and you don’t care about him!”

“I do care!” He roared back, taking a step towards her only to have Brienne push him back. “Don’t you ever say I didn’t care about what happened to you two! But what the hell was I supposed to do? Murder your husband?”

“Any decent man would have!” she yelled back, as close to him as Brienne would allow. “But not you; not  _ perfect _ Jaime! All you did was tell me I should have gone to the cops and tell them what he did so you wouldn’t have to step up and be a fucking man about it! Just like now; ‘oh go to the guards, go to the cops’!” 

“YOU SHOULD HAVE!” he roared. “It is NOT my fault you decided to lie to them about why you miscarried! As for Yara I am TRYING to help you but you don’t want it!”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Cersei turned towards a rather confused Brienne. “Because she didn’t do anything wrong, everything my brother told you was a lie.”

“Ms. Lannister, you don’t need to protect them,” the tall woman told her gently.

“And all these bruises? I have a girlfriend here, she likes it rough.”

“Cersei, please!” Jaime begged her as she turned on the heel of her shoe and stormed to the iron bar door.

“CO!” 

“They’re going to kill you!”

“CO, I wanna go back to my cell now!”

Jaime shook his head as a guard came and unlocked the door. Without another word Cersei stormed past the CO and down the hall out of sight.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brienne staring at him. He didn’t say a word to her and just walked out of the room and a moment later he heard her follow behind him. Neither of them spoke the whole walk through the prison, nor through the parking lot, even on the drive home. It wasn’t until she pulled up in front of the Onion House and turned off the car. The two of them sat there for a long while before Brienne finally managed to say two words he never would have ever heard from Cersei.

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked and looked over at her. “For what?”

“For not being able to help her. For not being able to help you, for putting you back in a position where you had to deal with her.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Cersei was never going to rat on them.”

“Maybe I could send my partner to talk to her? See if he has any luck with her?”

“... You still wanna help her?”

Brienne looked at him like he grew a second head. “Of course I do.”

He couldn’t help the start of tears in his eyes that he quickly blinked away. “Oh. Um… Thank you. For everything.”

Her soft smile melted him. “You’re welcome.” 

Brienne gnawed at her lip as she looked down at the ground then back up at him. All smiles were long gone. “Jaiime, what… you don’t have to tell me, it’s yours and hers story but…”

He bowed his head. His heart pained with that familiar ache it always did when he thought about that night when a doctor called him in the middle of the night and told him Cersei was in the hospital. 

“Her husband beat her when she was pregnant,” Jaime admitted with a thick catch in his throat. “I mean he beat her all the time but she thought he might stop when she announced she was carrying. She was 18 weeks along, she told the doctors she tripped and fell, she didn’t tell anyone the truth but me and when I BEGGED her to go to the cops and tell the truth she told me she had it handled and he got away with everything. She never knew the sex but she SWORE it was a little boy.” A shaky breath, and then, “our little boy.”

He expected disgust. He expected Brienne to cringe at the thought of him mourning a child of incest, a child that he still loved with his whole heart and soul. But instead all she did was lay a hand on his arm, and when he looked up at her she didn’t look sickened or disgusted or weirded out or any of that. Instead she had tears brimming in her eyes, with mercy and sympathy and compassion etched deep into every minute expression.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, voice thick with emotions and tears. “Jaime, I’m so sorry.”

“I just… when she told me, I just envisioned this whole other life,” he admitted. “Even if I could never claim him as mine, I would have been there for him, I would have taught him things, I would have… I never would have touched that needle with him in my life, even if all I got to be was an uncle.”

“You would have been a good father,” Brienne said with all the over abundance of tenderness and kindness she possessed.

A father.

Brienne told him he would have been a good father to his son. Cersei never called him that. Not once, it didn’t matter what. The baby was always hers and her alone, as if conceived by divine intervention. Only she was allowed to feel pain, all Jaime was granted was guilt over not killing Robert (which Cersei took care of on her own after she got out of the hospital). 

He knew if he stayed any longer he would start crying, and he also figured that would not be a good start to what hopefully a budding relationship so he thanked her for the help and she made a promise she wouldn’t give up on Cersei or the Greyjoy’s yet.

With that final promise from him to call her that night, Jaime left the tiny blue car and headed into the Onion House, neither of them noticing the rundown black van following close behind her…

Please Review!


	13. Brienne VI/Cersei II

Brienne was tired. 

She was tired, she was hungry, the early afternoon sun was beating down on her relentlessly and she knew it would only get hotter as the day went on, and she only had an hour or so before she had to get ready for work. But above all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the annoyance with the sweltering summer heat, she felt guilty most of all. She hadn’t been able to save Cersei, she hadn’t been able to get justice for Olenna, she hadn’t been able to protect Jaime… All she did was drag Jaime through an uncomfortable situation and make him go and sit in a room reminiscent of his time behind bars.

As she went to turn into the parking garage next to her building, she furrowed her brow as a black van pulled in behind her. She had noticed it following her almost as soon as she left Jaime’s but she hadn’t given it too much thought (she did live in the biggest city in Westeros, after all) but tailing her from the slums of Fleabottom all the way to the rather upscale area she lived in and now was driving into her parking garage…

Brienne didn’t pull into her usual spot, she didn’t want to be boxed in if she needed to make a quick escape, and instead just coasted to a stop right in the middle of the driving area. Sure enough, the van stopped just inches behind her rather than go around.

She clipped her badge to her shirt collar so it would be in plain view, holstered the gun in her waistband and likewise pocketed her cuffs. With a deep breath Brienne got out of the car, face hard as steel and unflinching, making sure to slam the door shut loud enough that it echoed in the concrete fortress. She stared down the van, hand resting on her weapon and praying with every fiber of her being today wouldn’t be the first time she had to use it.

The windows were tinted dark so she couldn’t see the driver but that didn’t matter for long. The door opened and a man stepped out, shrouded in shadow and darkness. Brienne never took an eye off him as he walked towards her, arms outstretched like he was greeting an old friend, stopping only when he was under a hanging light. Brienne’s heart leapt into her throat. Her breath stilled and her body froze but only for a moment. She wrapped her hand around the grip of the pistol.

“What are you doing here?” Brienne barked at Euron who simply laughed at her.

“Sorry, Officer, I wasn’t aware it was a crime to pull into a parking garage.” He pouted and held his hands out in front of him. “You gonna arrest me?”

Her mind whirled. Jaime begged her not to take action against Greyjoy, he made her promise that she wouldn’t arrest him for the threats he made against him or his sister. Threats against Brienne however...

“Get in your car,” she warned him, in the most authoritative voice she possessed. “And drive away.”

Euron laughed at the attempt of intimidation and she glowered at the man standing before her. “As far as I’m aware, I’m on public property. You know public property like the street outside of the Onion House or the sidewalk that passes Giantsbane gym…”

“What are you doing here, Greyjoy?” she demanded. Brienne would not let her fear get the better of her. She would stand tall and fearless, she was a police officer, a modern knight…

Euron shrugged and took another step closer, only pausing when her hand flew to the gun holstered in her waistband. He raised his hands in surrender. “Lets not get crazy here, alright? Afterall; I would  _ hate _ for you to shoot an unarmed man and get demoted again after your last run-in with IAB…” He ignored the sharp glare she threw at him and his lips curled into a sneer. “Are you a history buff, Officer? Did you know 300 years ago Tarth was the only territory in the Stormlands that voted for democracy?” he continued when she didn’t take his bait. “The Lord of Tarth even tore down the castle and built up this mansion where it once stood. A much needed symbolic change, he called it. The house is absolutely gorgeous, made of white marble, blue pillars…” Brienne did her best not to let her fear poison the stoic expression she wore as he described her childhood home. “I also hear his descendants still live there. Just one lonely old man...” He snickered. “Well… maybe  _ lonely _ is the wrong word to use, if the rumors are true.”

“If you lay a  **_hand_ ** on my father-!” she shouted as her terror gripped at her heart, tightening her grip on her pistel.

“You’ll what?” Any mocking amusement was gone, replaced by a deadly and dangerous snarl. “You’ll  **_what_ ** , Officer Tarth?” 

“I’ll arrest you,” she said simply. “My father is the police commissioner of Tarth, and once the guards find out you hurt him… Not even your connections will be able to save you.”

He looked mildly impressed at what amounted to as much of a threat as the tall blonde was able to tell. “Hypothetically; I’ll be beaten in my cell if I touch him, your father would be six feet under with none of his whores to warm his bed.” She choked back her fear from spreading further. “And you’ll be without a daddy… that doesn’t sound like a good time for anyone, and I’m all about good times. So how about you forget whatever Jaime Lannister told you and you forget whatever Cersei Lannister told you, and we all go home and have a good time?”

“Neither of them told me anything.”

“You’re a terrible liar. I know that one handed sister fucker and that junkie whore have been talking to you about me, spreading foul nasty lies about me...” He clutched his heart as if that wounded him. “Rumors are always so cruel and unfair, wouldn’t you say? If the rumor of a cop starting a relationship with a drug addict was spread, and that cop was already demoted for fucking someone she shouldn’t have been? Well that would be just terrible for her and her reputation. But I suppose it’s less terrible then what COULD happen if she, oh I don’t know, didn’t listen to me and continued digging around where she shouldn’t.” He flashed her a dangerous smile. “I’d love to go down and see that pretty little house built over the ruins.”

Without another word Euron turned on the heel of his weathered boot and walked away. When his van finally pulled out of the garage Brienne quickly drove into her spot, not caring whether she stayed in between the lines or not. She all but ran out of the garage, hand clutching her weapon tight as she fumbled for her phone and dialed her father's number.

“Hello,” a young female voice answered cheerily, her father's girlfriend she assumed. Brienne had stopped trying to keep track of them a while ago.

“I need to speak to my father,” she ordered his newest bedmate.

The chipperness was gone from her tone. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“This is Brienne,” she answered impatiently. “Let me talk to Selwyn  _ now.” _

A moment of silence and then a half whispered mumbling before her father's worried voice came through the phone. “Brie? Brienne, is everything alright?”

It took everything in her to keep walking, to not collapse against the wall and start blubbering and weeping. She walked into her building, too distracted to give the doorman her customary friendly greeting. “Dad,” she breathed, voice thick with tears as she hurried up the stairs. “Are-... are you- has-... are you alright?”

“Of course I am. Brienne, what’s going on? Are  _ you _ alright?”

She fumbled with her keys for a moment before she managed to unlock the door and hurry in, slamming it shut and locking it behind her. Drawing her gun, she checked every and every room, flicking on the lights as she went. When she was finally satisfied that Euron or one of his cronies weren’t in her apartment she finally let herself breathe and collapsed on her couch. “You and your girlfriend need to get a hotel room,” she finally managed to say once her heart beat had slowed some. “And you need to check in under an assumed name.”

“Wha- Brienne, what is happening?”

“I managed to piss off one of the most dangerous drug runners in Kingslanding.” She sniffed away her tears. “And just now he threatened you, he knows where you live, he knows about your personal stuff, he knows why IAB demoted me… you need to get yourself safe.”

“Brienne, I’m a cop as well,” he reminded her. “You think this is the first time I’ve been threatened?”

“This isn’t an angry highschooler who’s mad that you took his weed away, Euron Greyjoy is dangerous. He has no problem killing cops, judges, witnesses… He rips out the tongues of people who work for him, not because they snitched, but to be a deterrent to people who  _ might _ .”

“How did this even all get started anyway?” Selwyn asked. In the background Brienne heard his girlfriend demanding to know exactly what was going on. “You’re in uniform, you aren’t a detective. Those are the ones who end up making the big guys upset.”

“He figured out one of his guys ratted,” she explained, in the most simple way she could without outright lying. “Euron wants the CI to help smuggle drugs. He wants to get out of this life, he’s been clean for almost three years, he just wants to protect his sister who’s also being targeted and he came to me for help.”

“I see. Is there anyway you can hand this off to Narcotics or Vice? They’ll be able to handle this with more resources, it’ll get the heat off you…”

“I can’t give up on this guy. He’s… I just can’t,” Brienne settled on. “It has to be me.”

“Brie, if it gets this guys focus off you maybe you should consider it.”

“I’m not going to run and give up on this person just because Euron threatened me.”

“You mean you won’t go into hiding just because some scumbag is threatening you?” he mused, faking astonishment. “You’ll do your job and your duty and stay vigilant because this is what you signed up for when you put on that badge?”

She rolled her eyes as she settled back on her couch. “I can read between the lines, Dad.”

“Good. Then you know that I won’t run either.” Selwyn softened his voice. “I’ll be fine, Brie. I promise. I got the security system up and running, I’ll have a patrol do a driveby every night, I’ll sleep with my weapon next to my bed rather than in the safe… Don’t worry about me, Starlight.”

The use of her childhood nickname brought tears to her big blue eyes. “You still put your- your gun in your safe? Even though I’m not a kid anymore?”

“Force of habit. Speaking of kids-.” Brienne groaned, although she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t grateful for the change of topic. “I saw your Weirbook page said you were single again. You and Giantsbane broke up?”

“We did. It was just… He was a mistake, Dad. I know you want me to get settled down and have kids but-.”

“Brienne, I would take you being perpetually single for the rest of your life rather than marry that lowbrow idiot. What kind of moron gets so stark raving drunk the first time you meet your girlfriend's father that you nearly set my house on fire because you tip over the grill?”

She laughed, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders that had been firmly lodged there since the moment she told Tormund to leave her apartment. Brienne knew her father wasn’t a fan of Tormund but she wasn’t sure if his desire to see her happily married outweighed that dislike.

Brienne wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m scared for you, Dad.”

“I know, Starlight, and I’m nervous for you too. But we’re gonna be fine okay? The Tarths survived for thousands of years, we’ll survive this too. I love you, Brienne.”

“I love you too. Give my best to…Cara?”

“Ashlee. Cara was three months ago.”

“What happened to Cara?”

“She wanted me to get her brother out of an arrest, I said no.”

“Well that’s good. You wouldn’t want to let your nineteen year old squeeze to think you were inappropriate in any way.”

“She was twenty three,” he said dryly, any gentle fatherly affection long gone.

Brienne decided not to press the issue any further then that. This had been going on for too long for her to think she could make any sort of dent in his way of thinking.

After they said their goodbyes and Selwyn promised to call her if anything seemed out of the ordinary they finally hung up. She called her work, grateful that Tarly didn’t give her too much shit when she told him she was using one of her numerous sick days she had accumulated over the years, then she dialed Jaime, waiting with a deep breath for him to answer.

“Miss me already?” he teased when he picked up.

“Euron knows we’ve been hanging out and that we went to the prison to speak to Cersei,” Brienne announced, ignoring the flirt. “He threatened my father.”

A beat, and then a snarl. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned. “Assault will get you back in prison and who knows how many people he has inside?”

“Can’t you just arrest him?”

“Everything was phases as a hypothetical, any decent lawyer will get it thrown out. I’ll talk to Tarly, see if he can beef up patrols around the Onion House.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“He  _ threatened _ you, Brienne.”

“I’m fine. I am,” she assured him when he scoffed his disbelief. “I knew the risks when I took this job. All I’m worried about right now are you, Cersei and my father.”

“Have you talked to your dad?”

“I have.”

“And is he as stubborn as you?” 

A small smile flickered to her lips. “He is.”

“Then he’ll be fine.”

Brienne chuckled softly but the happiness was short lived and her face was a stoic somber rock a moment later. “Maybe. But listen Jaime, I-... I think it might be good if we… maybe put our dinner on the back burner, maybe stay apart for a while.”

A long moment of silence and then a rather blunt. “I see.”

“It's not you!” she said quickly. “I swear! I just- he told me to stay away from you. I’d rather put whatever this is on hold then risk you or your sister getting hurt.”

“So you’re going to let a sociopathic criminal dictate your investigation and love life?”

“Oh trust me, the investigation against him is in full force,” she assured him. “But he’s watching us, Jaime. I’m just trying to be careful.”

“Let him bloody watch then. We might as well give him a show while we’re at it.”

“Jaime…” she sighed.

He interrupted as if he hadn’t heard her exasperation. “You say he doesn’t scare you right?”

She rubbed her temples. “Right.”

“Well isn’t letting him decide who you see or when you see them admitting fear?”

“It’s called being smart.”

“Good thing for you I’ve never been accused of being clever.” Despite her best efforts, Brienne smiled. He must have been able to sense it because she could hear the smile in his tone. “So…?”

“So what?” she asked rather coyly.

“So are you going to let me take you out for some of the finest Dornish food available in Kingslanding this Friday?”

Gnawing at her plump lip for a moment, she gave a curt nod. “Make that Northern cuisine and you got a deal.”

* * *

The world was swirling round and round Cersei, tumbling and twisting dangerously. Her eyes were unfocused as she stared at the ceiling above her that opened up to the heavens.

The needle that held twice her usual dose laid haphazardly at her side.

She heard the footsteps storm into her room but didn’t comprehend the voice attached to them until Yara was yanking her out of her bunk. She smashed her hand on the way down but she didn’t feel it.

“You talk to the fucking cops?!” Yara snarled. The blonde was vaguely aware that a razor blade taped to a toothbrush was up to her neck. “You fucking rat on me, Lannister?”

“I didn’t rat,” she slurred. “I didn’t even… I didn’t know she was gonna be there.”

A sharp slap across her face she barely felt and the blade pressed tighter against her throat. “You’re lying!”

“Ask the guards. Five minutes, not… fuck…” Her head lolled side to side. “I was in and out in five minutes… I didn’t tell her anything…” 

She felt the blade Yara held slowly pull away. Through the haze Cersei saw the anger fade from her features. “... That’s actually what the guard said, that you weren’t in there not even three minutes. Just checking to make sure your stories were straight.” Cersei didn’t say anything, she just bobbed her head. “Seven Hells you’re messed up. How much did you take?”

“I’m not messed up,” she lied. “I’m clear, I’m thinking… I’m clear,” she grumbled. She looked at the woman standing before her. “I’m clear, and I- I wanna help you. I’ll get someone to… I’ll get someone, my former drug dealer, Bronn, he’s a real… he’s a snake but he’ll do what needs to get done.”

Yara smiled, cold and cruel, before she slapped her on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear, Lannister.”

“But you-... you gotta do something for me. Please.”

“Depends.”

Cersei willed herself to look up so she could look in her bosses eyes. Deep down inside her a voice was screaming how dangerous this was, to just shut up, to say nothing… But a much louder, uninhibited voice, a voice that was amplified by the excessive amount of drugs ripping through her bloodstream, was telling her to do what she needed to do, to say fuck the consequences. 

It was that second voice that spoke then. “I’ll get Bronn to smuggle in as much as you can give him… But you need to do me a favor. You need to kill Jaime. And then you need to kill that… tall cop bitch he’s been fucking.”

Yara blinked. “You want me to kill your brother and a  **_cop_ ** ?” 

“He’s cheating on me.” The tears came then, rushing down her pale cheeks. It was the first time she ever confirmed to anyone her secret about her and Jaime, but she didn’t care. Why should she care? He didn’t want her anymore, she was free to spread that secret as far and as much as she could. “He’s fucking her when he should be fucking me, he’s sober and free when he should be in here thinking about me. So you need to… you need to put an end to them both. Please?”

“Your fucking family, Lannister…” Yara shook his head in disbelief and disgust. “But fine. Consider it done.”

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this was a hard one. Not only do I have a monster cold but this chapter did NOT want to be written so I apologize for the blah-ness.


	14. Brienne VII

Brienne told herself, over and over, time and again, from the time she woke up and went to her new gym, a more modern, more expensive one that was just two blocks down from her apartment, to the time she dressed herself in her crisp starched uniform in the locker room, that she could do this.

When she showered after her workout, when she waited in line for her morning coffee, on her drive to her precinct, Brienne told herself that she could talk to Tarly without fear of reprimand. She could tell him what happened, she could explain everything without a catch in her voice or a tremble in her hands. No matter what he thought of her, her captain was still a cop and Brienne had been threatened by a dangerous criminal and not only that but her father, a fellow police officer, had been threatened as well. That had to merit some kind of action. 

So ten minutes before she had to start her shift she gathered all of her courage and knocked on the door to his office. Managing to hold back a flinch at the barked, “what?” Brienne took a steady breath and walked in, head held as high as her long neck would allow. 

Tarly was typing something. His desk free of any personal mementos except for a photo of himself and his youngest son kneeling in hunting camo besides a recently deceased stag, hunting rifles in hand, a rare smile on the bald man’s face. 

He only spared half a glance towards his blonde subordinate before he turned back to the screen in front of him. “I see you’re feeling better.”

“Hmm? Oh yes, thank you, Sir. I-.”

“We were already short handed but what's being a team player when there’s an extra day off to lounge around in bed to be had?”

A hot blush crept up her cheeks but she pressed on, ignoring the comment. “Sir, I- I need to tell you something. You’ve heard of Euron Greyjoy right?”

His typing didn’t stall. “Of course I have.”

“He… he threatened me last night, Sir. Me and my father.”

His fingers froze. Tarly turned towards her, his stern face unreadable. “You aren’t Vice, you aren’t Narcotics, you aren’t DEA. Why would a big name like Euron Greyjoy target you?”

“He’s after me because of my CI,” Brienne answered. She decided last night that it was better leaving Jaime’s name out of this as much as possible. “Greyjoy’s been threatening him, threatening his… his ex and trying to get him to smuggle drugs into the prison to her. But he’s clean, almost three years, he was never a part of the game in the first place, he was just a user who bought it from some local dealer not even connected to Greyjoy.”

“Then why does Greyjoy have such a hardon for this guy if he’s a nobody?”

“His ex was Yara Greyjoy’s second in command in lockup dealing and smuggling, but since my CI won’t cooperate with Euron, that turned sour and his ex is getting beaten up daily. They threatened the CI and his ex as well plus his ex…” Brienne took a deep breath. “She knows who killed Olenna Tyrell. Olenna was killed trying to protect his ex from Yara, it wasn’t a random jailhouse brawl, it wasn’t an accident, she was the target and Yara Greyjoy is the murderer.”

If Brienne dropping the name of the killer of one of the most well connected criminals in Kingslanding stunned him, her captain he didn’t show it. Tarly nodded slowly, pursing his lips at the young cop. “Did you talk to your guys ex?”

“I tried, she isn’t willing to testify to anything. And the cameras happened to be off during the riot and no one else is willing to rat.”

“Has your CI given you anything at all besides the word of an ex junkie?”

She wanted to tell him that she saw Euron threaten him and Cersei both but she made a promise to Jaime, she swore that she wouldn’t tell anyone about him threatening. She had to keep his secret, he trusted her.

Instead Brienne just shook her head. “No but he’s trustworthy. He’s a good man, he wouldn’t lie to me. Plus Greyjoy followed me to my home, he threatened me, he threatened my- my father.” The breath hitched in her throat and she had to swallow the painful lump that gathered there. The thought of her father gunned down, tongue ripped out, cold and unblinking on a metal slab all because Jaime was doing the right thing… It was a poisonous dagger to her heart and ten times as painful. “Euron Greyjoy threatened my father, he knows where he lives, he knew-... personal things about him.”

“You mean that he likes to fuck barely legal girls?”

Her cheeks burned with blush. Blue eyes lowered to the smooth brown wooden desk, praying to the Seven to transport her anywhere but here.

Tarly leaned back in his chair when he finally realized she wasn’t going to give his crude comment an answer. “Is there anything else?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re telling me Greyjoy threatened you and your CI but your CI won’t cooperate, his ex won’t cooperate, all the threats were phased entirely in hypotheticals which won’t ever hold up in court... What do you expect me to do?”

“Arrest him?” 

“For what?”

“For threatening two police officers, for threatening two civilians?” She felt her anger rising faster than she could contain it. “One of the most dangerous men in Kingslanding THREATENED your subordinate, another police commissioner, a-.”

“You will watch your tone!” he barked at her as sharp as a blade. “Your CI won’t cooperate, his sister won’t talk to you, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Sir, please, my father-.”

“I’ve heard he is a good man and a good officer and I pity him. Some are blessed with sons, other daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you. Figure this out on your own or drop it, don’t bring this to my attention again.”

_ Words are wind. They cannot hurt you. Let them wash over you, don’t let him see you cry. _

She stood slowly, and gave a polite nod to the man sitting before her. “I understand, Sir,” she tried to tell him but he already turned his attention back to his computer. Without another word she walked out of the scarce office, breath trembling. Podrick fell in beside her, saying something to her but she didn’t hear him. She shook her head, forcing herself to come down from her daze.

“I’m sorry, wha-... what was that?”

“I asked if you were ready to go?” He beamed at her, so wide and so innocent she couldn’t help but feel a little better. “I’ll even buy the coffee this time.”

She smiled and gave the young boy a soft nod. “Thank you, Podrick. And of course I’m ready.”

The rest of the week passed without much incident, save for Brienne's ever increasing fear for her father but every night he called and every night he assured her things were fine, there were no strange happenings on the island, there was no threats… 

It gave her some peace but even still; she worried for her father, for Jaime, for Cersei... If what Jaime said was true, and the COs did shut off the cameras, then she couldn’t ask them for help and apart from Podrick she didn’t much trust her brother officers either. But there hadn’t been any more threats, there hadn't been any Greyjoy sightings and Jaime promised her to tell her rather or not there were anymore threats but he assured her things were normal.

He also told her how he couldn’t wait for their dinner Friday night, and how that night couldn’t come quick enough. For Brienne though, the days flew by and the closer it got to their date, the more she was convinced this was a bad idea.

All of her dates with Tormund consisted of bars, burger joints and pizza places, certainly nowhere she would need to ‘dress nice’ as Jaime texted her on Wednesday night. 

So Friday after her shift she dug through her closet, choosing a dress she wore when she was chosen by Vice for an undercover operation at an art gallery. They mostly picked her solely for the fact that she has the most Highborn accent out of nearly anyone else in the Kingslanding PD and would easily fit in with the upper class debutants who spoke about the paintings, and all she had to do was allow their target to sell her a masterpiece stolen from the Meereen Art Museum, the one and only painting that existed of the short reigned Dragon Queen, but nevertheless, it still gave her a feeling of accomplishment and gave her hope that she might make detective sooner rather than later. Of course that was before the ‘Lannister incident’ made her a pariah but she had been allowed to keep the dress, which was nice.

It was a rather stunning sleeveless little blue number, made of impossibly soft silk and a skirt that poofed out just slightly and only came down to about an inch or so shorter than her knees. The way the bodice was cut gave the illusion that she actually had something in the way of cleavage as well. She didn’t slick her hair back but rather allowed some of it to fall into her face. Around her neck was a simple silver chain with a small tear drop sapphire in the center of the necklace that hung between her meager breasts, the sole piece of jewellery her mother and now Brienne owned. On her feet were two simple blue flats, not wanting to make her height even more obvious, even if she knew deep down Jaime wouldn’t mind.

For once, Brienne thought to herself as she looked in the mirror, she didn’t look half bad. Not beautiful by any means, but not so terribly ugly either. Finally, five minutes early, there was a knock on the door.

With a firm reminder to herself that this was perfectly legal, Brienne took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, painted in what she hoped was a soft smile, and opened the door.

Her first thought was how on earth could the universe have made such a mistake as to pair her, the ugliest woman alive, with him; the most astonishingly God-like man she ever saw.

Everything about him was mind blowingly beautiful and handsome and sexy and stunning and every definition in every known language that was known to man that meant incredible looking. The suit he wore was expertly tailored to fit and showcase his athletic body and was a deep deep midnight black that he paired with a crimson tie and a black shirt underneath. His hair was expertly styled and sleek, his stubble was just the perfect cross of carelessness and groomed, his eyes looked even greener if possible, and the way he made it look so effortless…

For a moment she thought he might take one look at her and realize that tens don’t belong with twos, and take off with a sneer, and truthfully, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.

But instead he looked almost shell shocked and, she would convince herself she was seeing things later, Brienne could have sworn she saw his jaw drop just a little at the shy woman that had answered the door. 

“You look amazing,” he told her looking over the figure that no man should have ever coveted yet here was the most handsome man she had ever met doing just that, and looking almost hungry for what laid beneath the cobalt colored silk as well. “Blue is a good color on you,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.”

Flustered, she muttered out a quick thank you and he grinned. “I love when you blush. It’s very sexy.” Her cheeks grew even hotter. “Like that.”

“It’s not a smart idea to tease a woman with a gun,” she told him as she grabbed her purse and followed him into the hallway, locking the door behind her.

“But you’re just so fun to tease,” he said with a tone that may have been considered innocent if you didn’t know who this man was. When they got to the street Brienne whistled at the cherry red sports car with a golden lion on the hood that was parked in front of her building. “This is yours?”

“For the night it is.” Jaime opened the door for her and helped her into the low sleek crimson leather seat. “I haven’t used my connections for anything since I got out but I figured this was the one night I could make an exception.”

“It is a gorgeous exception, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Tyrion that,” he told her, starting the car with a sweet sounding purr before they were off. 

“So I talked to Tarly about Greyjoy,” Brienne said as he drove. His shoulders stiffened considerably but he said nothing about stopping so she continued. “About him threatening all of us… He didn’t do anything.”

“Isn’t that his job? To protect people?”

“It is but since it was phased all in hypotheticals...”

“Even still, he can’t help you or your dad?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. That or he just doesn’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to?”

“Me and my captain never got along,” she admitted. “Even before my demotion.”

“Why not?”

“Captain Tarly is under the impression that a woman shouldn’t necessarily carry a badge. Also I… may have broken his bench record.”

Jaime laughed, rich and loud and it made her smile. “Yeah that’ll do it for a weakling like Tarly.”

Brienne glanced down at the floor of the sports car, drawing her plump lip in between her crooked teeth. “And you?”

“And me what?”

“I’m stronger than you.” Not an opinion, a fact she proved when they had their own competition one day when she still went to Giantsbane. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course it doesn’t,” he said quickly . Jaime glanced over at the tall blonde and smirked. “Because you may be stronger than me, but I’m definitely strong enough.”

“To do what?” 

She hadn’t intended for it to sound so forward but the way he gnawed at his lip she decided she was glad it came across that way.

“To do whatever you want,” he purred his response, and that blush he teased her for was back, as was his laugh. “I’m sorry,” he told her as he slowed for a red light, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’ll stop, I remember how annoyed you got at Tormund making comments like that.”

“Somehow it’s not as annoying when you do it,” she mused honestly. “But nevertheless, thank you.”

Soon afterwards Jaime pulled up to where they were dining tonight. It was a brilliant white building that stood out even amongst the glistening snow on the ground. The warm candlelight from inside created a feeling of elegance while an old world charm beckoned its diners forward.

“How many connections do you have?” Brienne gasped as she gazed up at the building.

“The Lannister’s come from old money, Brienne,” Jaime said as he tossed his keys to a valet _. “ _ You’ve heard the phrase ‘rich as a Lannister’ correct?”

“Of course but I-... are… are you telling me-?”

“Like I said-  _ very _ old money. Hell even  _ my _ name still gets a few doors open in this city.”

Without another word he put his hand on her back and led her inside.

Besides the door there was a podium with a sharp dressed man in a black suit standing behind the polished darkened wood where people would wait in line to confirm their reservations.

In the corner there was a long bar, made with the same high quality wood the rest of the building was made of with higher quality wines, liquor, and spirits that would break a man’s bank only after one drink stood where they would send the lower class diners to wait until they had an available table for them.

The tables, ranging from small circular ones that would hold an intimate two man setting to an extended long one that would hold up to 20 of a single party, were all dressed in a silk white table cloth with two, or more depending on the size and length of the table, candle lights in the center to light the patrons area.

On the walls were beautifully hand painted scenes of the Northern countryside that one could get easily lost into if they stared too long at the beauty of the magnificent colors. There was also a small dance floor and a wooden stage where a small band had set up and was displaying their craft for the customers while a beautiful young woman dawned in an ankle length black dress was singing sweet and low into the microphone a soft slow Northern ballad that, while most who ate couldn’t decipher the language, it was heaven to their ears and lifted their hearts all the same.

It almost seemed to tell a timeless tale of romance and of lovers, old and young. Even the usual steadfast, stoic Brienne was not immune to its charms and indeed, she slipped her hand into Jaime’s as they made their ways to the front of the line.

They were seated immediately, there weren't that many diners at 5:00 in the evening but neither Jaime nor Brienne wanted to rush through the meal or the drive home in order to get him back in time.

As they say there in the warm glow of the candlelight waiting for their drinks, his eyes were softer than anything she had ever seen, and she would have been lying if she didn’t admit it frightened her a little.

Tormund never looked at her like this. Not once. But here was a man, on their first official date, and he was already looking at her like she was the sun and the moon. It was new and scary and exciting, and made the butterflies in her stomach flutter but also sent her heart pounding against her ribs.

“To a new start,” he said, raising his glass of wine when it arrived.

“For both of us,” she replied, returning the gesture and lightly clinking her glass against his and returning the meeting softness he was filling her with. After they ordered their food, Jaime suckling pig and Brienne honey roasted chicken, the green eyed man chuckled. 

When she asked what was funny, he replied; “not only have I changed for the better, but the food we’re eating compared to where we first met is better too.”

Brienne couldn’t help but laugh along with him, a big louder than life sound that had her prior boyfriends and friends looking embarrassed for her and themselves, but all it did to Jaime was make his smile grow wider and he joined in on the laughter, later calling it infectious and ‘one of the best sounds he’s ever heard.’

During dinner two of them recalled happier tales from their youth (Jaime talked about the time he found a little orange kitten behind a dumpster and tried to hide it from his parents, never catching on until later that the ‘mistakenly delivered’ cat food and litter that at the time he considered a miracle, had actually been ordered by his mother. Brienne reminisced about the time she told her father to take their scruffy little 10 pound dog to work with him so he could ‘feel like a real police dog’. Selwyn was still teased about it all these years later.) The conversation flowed easily and freely, with the only breaks being when they were chewing their northern cuisine. It was simple to talk to him and answer his questions, and when Jaime talked she listened intently without interruptions or sneering, what must have been a new experience for him seeing as how soft he looked the longer he spoke. Then midway through the meal Jaime asked her if she wanted to dance, and any trace of her smile was wiped from her lips.

“Dance?” she asked cautiously.

“Dance,” Jaime conformed as he wiped his mouth and he stood up. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me with those legs of yours you’ve never danced before.”

“No, I-... I have, I just… dance?”

Not allowing her to protest, Jaime grabbed hold of her hand and slowly pulled her up from her seat. Her cheeks burned bright with blush but for once Jaime didn’t comment on it and rather just led her to the small wooden dance floor. He wrapped the arm with the prosthetic around her thick waist and held hers with his left. A slow soft ballad was being crooned by the woman on stage and the band was playing a beautiful melody, easy for couples to follow. 

Brienne took a shaking breath as she followed him, stiff and hardly moving. Jaime gave her a smile that was meant to comfort as he swayed her body to the music. “See? It’s not so bad is it?”

“It’s not,” Brienne admitted, looking anywhere but in his eyes and it wasn’t; his touch was warm, their steps were perfectly in sync. “But I just-... I um, I actually used to dance.”

“You did?”

She nodded as the two of them twirled around the small floor. “When I was a child I did ballet. I was quite good at it too, my instructors gave me all the leads in the showcases when I was younger.”

“So why’d you stop?”

Sour memories she hoped to lay long forgotten rushed its way to the surface, of a short plump woman with grey hair sneering at her, insulting her, shouting at her… “When I was nine I had this instructor, Roelle, and all of a sudden I was put in the back of all the choruses, she told me I looked far too much like a boy in a pink leotard so I had to wear the black ones the boys did, everything I did was wrong, and then one day she came right out and told me people came to the ballet because they wanted to witness beauty in motion, not an ugly hulking cow in a pink leotard.”

Jaime finally stilled his movements and looked at her, eyes wide and mouth agape as if he had been the one insulted. “Gods,” he breathed. “Brienne, I-... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ve mostly forgotten about it. Besides, she lifted the scales from my eyes, she made me see I could never be something so delicate or feminine. That’s when I decided I would put away my pointe shoes and become a cop like my father instead.”

“You were nine years old though, that-... who could be so cruel to a little girl?”

“You would be surprised.” Brienne draped her arms around his shoulders and began to sway to the swelling music. Eventually he began to move in time again. “Besides it was a good thing.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well if I let that delusion go on for a few more years, I may never have decided to become a cop, and that means I never would have met you.”

The corner of Jaime’s lips flickered upwards. “Silver linings for both of us. But, as eternally grateful as I am for your career choice, your instructor was wrong.”

“She wasn’t but thank you.”

“She was. Because seeing you dancing?” He pulled her in close, pressing up against her, not caring that he had to look up to be able to gaze in her eyes, not caring that he could feel hard firm muscles rather than soft womanly curves. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped slightly as he leaned in so close she could feel his breath on her lips, emeralds gazing up at sapphires. “It’s about as close to beauty in motion as you could get…”

After dinner and their dance they shared a piece of cheesecake and afterwards they walked out to his car. The conversation came just as easy as it did at the restaurant and the drive over. Everything was easy with him, nothing felt forced, her smiles were real, she didn’t have to convince herself this was fine because it really WAS fine. It was more than fine, it was perfect.

They pulled up to her apartment and, heart pounding against her chest, he walked her up the stairs to her door, neither one wanting to separate just yet.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Brienne told him, doing her best to meet his eyes and not blush or stammer. 

Jaime chuckled at the apparent shyness. “I had a good time too. Is it presumptive to assume you would like to do this again?”

“Not at all,” she answered. “I- I would like that quite a bit. Actually.”

She almost had to laugh at the way his eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jaime drew his lip between his lip and took a step closer to her. Brienne held her ground as green eyes locked with blue. His voice was a purred whisper. “And would it be presumptive if I were to kiss you right now?” She shook her head and a moment later his lips were against hers.

It was soft and wet, slow and breathy. His hand buried itself in her short blonde locks and Brienne draped her arms around his neck, lightly fingering the hair at the name of his neck as the kiss ignited a stirring of want in her belly. The heat rose to her cheeks as their tongues touched, his slowly gliding and dancing over hers and when she moaned, just soft enough for him to hear it, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer.

Tormunds kisses had always been all smashing lips and grunts and too much wetness and too much tongue and too much of everything that she told herself was fine, but this was different; this was perfect in fact. Their lips moved in sync, he took charge but he wasn’t dominating, and his plastic hand stayed firmly on her waist. 

This was what a kiss should be. This was the kind of first kiss girls who looked like her never even dreamt about getting but here she was, not just dreaming but it was happening in real life. She was kissing a man as handsome as Jaime Lannister, a man who not even 5 months ago she would have debated wasting good spit on him if he was on fire.

His teeth just scraping the plump lip he was sucking on, he finally pulled back, breathless and beautiful and looking at her like she was the Maiden herself. Brienne willed the stammer from her words, licking her lips and savoring the taste of him. “For the record… you never have to ask me permission to do that again.”

Jaime chuckled before he pushed a piece of hair that had fallen from her face. “Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“It was but… yes.”

Laughing, he took hold of her hand and brought the back of it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss like knights used to do to their ladies in all the old stories. “Good night, Brienne.”

“Good night, Jaime.” He gifted her one last smile before he started to walk away, turning back when she called out to him. “You know some halfway houses, if it’s close to the end of their probation and the tenant has been on good behavior, they allow for overnight passes if you apply for them in advance.”

This time it was Brienne's turn to laugh as he stared at her with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. She winked, blew him one last kiss, and went inside.

Everything wasn’t fine, she thought to herself as she shut the door behind her, grinning like a schoolgirl and clutching her heart.

Everything wasn’t fine. It was absolutely perfect.

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my absolute favorite chapter of this story to write so far so I really hope you all loved it too ❤️  
> Also there’s a line somewhere where, with my history, it may seem like an accident or a mistake but it was intentional on my part


	15. Jaime VIII/Cersei III

“Initial here saying you understand that you’ll be subject to a drug test immediately upon return.”

**_JL_ **

“Initial here saying you understand that your person will be searched immediately upon return.”

**_JL_ **

“And then sign here saying you understand that you’re still under parole and still subject to the rules implemented by the parole board for the remainder of your parole.”

Jaime signed the bottom of the form before handing it back to Davos who immediately brought out another slip of paper.

“Tell me where you’ll be staying with, who you’ll be staying with, their address, phone number and all the rest.”

“Of course,” Jaime said as he began writing down the contact information for one Tyrion Lannister. 

Afterwards he handed it to Davos who looked over the form for mistakes and when he found nothing he gave Jaime a curt nod. 

“Don’t fuck it up, have a good time and get out of my house.”

Jaime chuckled, slapped the older man on the shoulder and walked out feeling more free then he had in almost three years (if only for 24 hours.) Tyrion was waiting for him outside and the two brothers greeted each other with an embrace.

“What time do you have to be back tomorrow?” asked Tyrion as he and Jaime walked to where his car was parked.

“One. Until then I am a free man.”

“A free man who needed permission to spend the night at his girlfriends house.”

“Only for four more weeks,” Jaime reminded him. “Then I’m off parole and free to go back to a life of normalcy.”

“You got a place to stay and everything?”

He nodded as Tyrion started the car with a push of a button, the engine coming to life with a loud purr. “I’m seeing an apartment on Steel Street before work on Monday.”

“I bet if you asked Father he could get you a penthouse in Redkeep.”

“Yeah and with that generous offer would come with the condition of me going back to work for him.”

Amusement danced in his brother's pale green eyes. “So you’re determined to keep this whole independent streak going even after you’re off parole?”

“It’s not an  _ independent streak _ . It’s being my own man, taking responsibility for my actions, living life on my own terms. You can’t tell me not being under his foot any longer doesn’t sound tempting.”

Tyrion just smiled. “I make 500K dragons per year. You know the first thing I do with my paycheck? I give my stripper girlfriend Shae an obscene amount of money.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “So she can get her hair done, make a dent in her credit card bills, pay her rent it doesn’t matter. But what  **_does_ ** matter is that sense of satisfaction I have knowing Father checks my bank statements and can see exactly what I’m spending his money on.”

Jaime pictured Tywin’s face as he poured over the statements, seeing the charges for hairdressers, nail salons, rent for some run down apartment in Fleabottom and he couldn’t help but laugh. “The call is coming from inside the house.”

Tyrion’s grin was sharp and humorless. “Since I’m his last chance for a family legacy there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it less I quit. So you see? Total independence isn’t always a good thing.”

“Well as tempting as that sounds, I think I’m going to stick to total separation. Besides I like working at the gym, I like earning my own money.”

Soon after their conversation on independence coasted to a stop Tryion pulled into the parking lot of a Yiti restaurant. He may have wanted to spend the night with Brienne but he also wanted to spend some time with his brother too.

“So what are your plans for tonight?” Tyrion asked as he effortlessly plucked a piece of sweet and sour pigeon from his plate with his chopsticks while Jaime, even after all these years, felt like a child as he scooped rice onto his fork with his left hand.

“Brienne is making me dinner.” The smile came easy at the thought. “Then we’re spending a nice quiet night on her couch watching Wierflex.”

“Sounds exciting,” Tyrion snorted.

“Trust me over the last three years I had just about all the excitement I can handle.” 

It was true too. When he told her that he got the approval for the overnight pass Brienne offered him the opportunity to do anything he wanted. She suggested going to dinner at a classy restaurant in Redkeep, the chance for Jaime to let loose at a club, get thoroughly debauched at a bar or take part in whatever other late night endeavor he had been denied since he went to prison. 

But the longer he thought the more he realized he didn’t miss any of that. He had people cooking his meals for the last 3 years, he was getting too old for clubs and spending his limited night time with Brienne getting drunk seemed more of a waste than anything. So he told her he wanted a home cooked meal and then a nice quiet evening at home and she promised to oblige.

Of course if a pleasant night in led to other activities Jaime also hadn’t been able to do in three years… Well who was he to complain?

After lunch Tyrion drove him to his brownstone in Redkeep where Jaime hung out with his brother catching up on the company, on each others lives, on the rest of the family (his Aunt Genna was the only one outside of Tyrion to send Jaime commissary money and care packages, then Uncle Kevin offered him a job in a formal letter addressed not to him but to the parole board.) 

One topic they actively avoided was Cersei. Tyrion visited her once since Jaime got out but she stayed in her cell rather than meet with him and he hadn’t bothered to return and Jaime wanted to pretend, just for one night, that his sister who had gotten him in deep with one of the most dangerous drug lords in Kingslanding didn’t exist.

Tyrion let him use his bathroom to clean himself up for the date and for the first time in years Jaime showered in a private bath, and better than that the hot water worked fine, he didn’t have the pressure of hurrying up knowing others were in line behind him, he didn’t need to wear flip flops and best of all he didn’t need to tape a razor blade to the bottom of his shoe incase anyone tried to try to hurt him in the showers. After he washed he dressed himself in tight fit jeans and a rather form fitting black T-shirt that showcased his phiseque, styled his hair into a gentle wave that he knew looked good on him and decided against shaving, leaving just the perfect amount of five a clock shadow. Tyrion whistled when he walked out of the bathroom and Jaime smirked as he pulled on his boots. 

He loved knowing he looked good.

After telling his brother not to wait up for him Jaime headed out, pushing down the creeping fear that always approached when it was getting close to his curfew but he pressed forward and ignored the voice in the back of his mind screaming that he had to get back to the house. It was a quarter to eight when he knocked on Brienne's door and he did his best to ignore the cold sweat on his brow and the way his heart pounded. But when she answered the door, he forgot about the curfew, he forgot about his nerves, he forgot about everything but her.

She greeted him in a pair of snug fitting black jeans that was cuffed at the bottom and a dark blue silky blouse that matched the simple ballet flats she wore on her feet. Half her hair was slicked back and she allowed the other half to fall in her face and it was all somehow casual but classy, simple but sexy and it nearly took his breath away.

“You look amazing,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. Jaime handed her the bouquet of blue cornflowers, white daisies and green ivy that he bought on the way over and he bit back a laugh at the scarlet blush that painted her face. 

“They’re beautiful, Jaime,” she muttered through her shyness, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. “Thank you.” 

Brienne shut the door being him and Jaime was allowed the chance to look around. It was quite elegant and rather posh all without trying too hard, just like her. The smell of whatever she was cooking wafted through the apartment and made his mouth water and he had to remind himself it would be rude to groan as loud as he could. 

“Dinner’ll be ready soon,” she announced as she went into her kitchen and retrieved a vase for the flowers. She handed him a glass of sweet Dornish red. “If you wanna sit down, make yourself at home.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No no, please go relax. All that’s left is to just cut up the stuff for the salad and besides this night is supposed to be relaxing for you.” Brienne smiled with more sincerity then Cersei had ever looked at him with, letting him know this wasn’t one of those cases where she expected his help even though she told him it was fine so Jaime obliged her, taking the wine and sitting down on the sapphire colored couch.

He took a moment to look around the apartment, slowly sipping the crimson colored vintage. A picture of a younger Brienne in her dress blues beaming at the camera and an older man even taller than her with the same deep blue eyes with his arm wrapped around her shoulder caught his eye. “You and the man in the photo above the tv,” he called out to the chef. “Is that your dad?”

“It is,” she called back. “It was the day I graduated from the academy.”

“He’s tall. Is everyone in your family vertically privileged?”

She laughed and Jaime grinned. He loved that sound. “My dad is and I remember my brother being tall even when he was a kid.”

“You  _ remember _ him being tall? What, you haven't seen your brother in a while or something?” 

“Galladon died when I was eight and he was twelve.” 

_ Fuck _ . 

“Gods,” he muttered, kicking himself. “Brienne, I’m sorry,” 

“It’s alright, it was a long time ago.” 

She came into the living room carrying her own glass of wine and took down one of the photos off the wall to hand to Jaime before taking a seat next to him. He smiled at the picture of the towhead family on a beach; a four year old girl with a long plait of pale blonde curls in a pink bikini covered in suns and then a tall boy in dark blue swim trunks kneeling besides two infants dressed in matching swimming diapers laying on a large beach towel beaming up at the camera and the two, very tall, blonde adults with their arms wrapped around each other and smiling.

“The amount of spf 200 sunscreen your family must have gone through must have kept the sun protection business rolling in dough,” Jaime mused and Brienne laughed again.

“It still didn’t stop us from being burnt to a crisp each summer.” She pointed to the two older children, “that’s me and Galladon, and those are the twins Alysanne and Arianne. They died when they were about eight months old and then that’s my mom and dad but she passed about a month after the girls did.”

“I’m sorry. My mother died giving birth to Tyrion so I understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

“It’s hard,” she agreed with a sad smile, reaching up to rub his shoulder. “I’m sorry for what happened, Jaime.”

Deciding he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night talking about dead family members he pointed to the crystal clear waters in the background. “Where was this taken? Estermont?”

“Tarth. As if Estermonts beaches could be that pretty,” she scoffed and this time it was Jaime’s turn to laugh. 

“A point of pride I take it?”

She grinned, shy and adorable. “Just a little. That’s actually my family's own private beach. We’re descended from the original Evenstar line and when Westeros became a democracy, the last Lord of Tarth was willing to get rid of the castle and his lordship and ownership of the marble mines he wasn’t willing to let go of the land or the little strip of ocean.”

“I think you and your father might be the only cops in existence who own beachfront property AND a private beach but didn’t buy it from dirty money.”

“Possibly.” She smiled a wickedly sinful smile and winked at him. Jaime felt a tightness in his jeans. “I could be incredibly corrupt, you never know.”

“You weren’t willing to give the children of the most influential man in Westeros a pass for possession but I definitely see you taking bribes from.”

She shrugged and took a slow sip of her wine as if choosing her next words carefully. “Maybe I just wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Without missing a beat Jaime leaned forward and flashed her a cutting grin. “Oh I think you would look  _ much _ better in cuffs then I would, Officer Tarth,” he purred as smooth as silk.

Her face turned beat red. Jaime chuckled low in his throat and while she quickly averted her eyes, his took in every inch of the woman in front of him, drawing fourth a blush that traveled all the way down past her chest. Jaime reached up and pushed a short pale blonde piece of hair behind her ear before gently brushing the nape of her impossibly long neck. 

The sound of the timer going off on the kitchen stilled him and it was the first time in his life he was disappointed at the arrival of a home cooked dinner. But the moment he sat down at the tiny makeshift table in her livingroom with a plateful of beef tenderloin, balsamic asparagus and lemon herb risotto along with the sweet dry red wine that paired perfectly with the meal and a sweet summer salad of apples, walnuts and well dressed greens, his disappointment faded away VERY quickly. 

The conversation managed to steer clear of any more dead relitives and they managed to fill the time talking about their pasts and turns out they were connected through a mutual friend. Renly was Cersei’s brother in law but had been Briennes boyfriend before he found out he was gay and after that he was her best friend until they drifted apart after highschool. Jaime didn’t have the heart to tell the women who still held a candle to the dark haired boy that it was an open secret in the upperclass society that he was on drugs and was the first one to sell Cersei coke.

He talked about how he was looking at a new apartment and how excited he was to be able to experience freedom,  _ true _ freedom, for the first time not just in the past three years, but that night since he begged Cersei to share her score. 

“It’s weird,” Jaime admitted as they shared a apple tart after dinner on the couch. “Once you get over the dope sickness, even that first few minutes you see clearer. It’s like the fog immediately starts to lift and it just keeps getting clearer and clearer and a month later… you wonder why you even used in the first place.”

“I won’t excuse it,” Brienne said honestly. “I wish you had gone to therapy or worked out what happened in a less destructive way, but you did have somewhat of a valid reason for your addiction, you and Cersei both.”

Jaime shook his head. “Like you said there’s therapy, there’s painting, there’s exercise…. Everything I use to cope now was available to me then. I didn’t need to use.”

Brienne smiled but it was different then all the other times. She reached forward and took hold of his hand, lightly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’m so proud of you, Jaime.”

Her words might have been a foreign language. He had never heard that, from anyone (sans Tyrion.) Tywin never shared his admiration for his accomplishments. It didn’t matter that Jaime managed to get through school even though he was dyslexic, his grades should have been higher. It didn’t matter that he led the Casterly High Wildcats to state for three years and was the first starting sophomore quarterback in his schools history, he should have done it as a freshman. It didn’t matter that he graduated from one of the toughest MBA programs in the country, he didn’t do it with honors. Then Cersei… she wasn’t proud of him for getting clean in prison, she was angry at him because that meant he was different than her again. It didn’t matter that he had to work for it and he considered it his biggest accomplishment to date, it made him different from her. And that was the biggest crime of all.

But Brienne told him that first day they spoke that she was proud of his sobriety, even when she hated him. She loathed him to his very core but she had been genuine in her congratulations. But now that she got to know him, gotten to  _ like _ like him, the sincerity was still the same but there was a pride there as well. Her boyfriend, he always beamed when he called himself that, had managed to beaten back a disease that claimed far too many lives. He wasn’t making excuses for himself, even though she had given him an out to, and that made her proud too.

It was a new feeling; being the source of pride for someone, being someone that a good person thought was worthy of admiration but he liked it. 

He likes it a lot, and all he wanted was to keep living up to her standards, to keep making her happy she was with him, to keep her proud of him.

Brienne took another bite of apple tart and a bit of the sweet amber syrup ran from her lips (or so he imagined.)

“You got a little bit of syrup,” he said pointing to the corner of his mouth. She flicked her tongue out (good GODS was that long as well) to catch the sweetness and Jaime shook his head. “You missed it,” he informed her, watching as she licked at her lips. 

Her blue eyes twinkled. “I did huh?”

“You did. Here lemme get it.” He leaned forward and kissed her, wasting no time as his tongue licked the sweetness from her lips. Brienne moaned just loud enough for him to hear as he sucked on her bottom lip, releasing it with a soft  _ pop _ before he kissed her again slow and softly, gently massaging her tongue with hers.

“Gods you’re good,” she muttered against his lips and Jaime laughed, burying his flesh hand in her hair and running his fingers softly through the pale blonde tresses. “I haven’t been kissed like that since… ever.”

“You are not shy when it comes to stroking a guys ego are you?”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. “Not when he deserves it.”

He grinned before he kissed her and kissed her again and again. At some point they wound up with him laying on top of her on the couch, his hands on her thick waist but then she grabbed his left hand and slowly slid it up and under her blouse, and who was he to deny her? He traced the soft swell of her breast, pleasantly surprised to find a lack of fabric between her small curve and his hand. She shuddered pleasantly as he brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple and the feverishish of her kisses increased ten fold and Jaime found himself wondering why on earth she was still wearing a shirt at all.

Brienne must have read his mind because her fingers went from the back of his neck to the buttons on her shirt, quickly undoing them with a deftness his one hand couldn’t have handled. The moment the last cutting was done Jaime took over, sliding the top from her shoulders and tossing it across the room. Her breasts were small, so small he could easily fit it in one hand, and was the same pale creamy white as the rest of her coloring. Her nipples were small and perk, a dusky rose color and he could tell they were just aching to be in his mouth.

Jaime leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples while his hand groped at her other breast. She gasped and arched her back, holding his head to her as if he would ever want to leave and Jaime flicked the stiffening pink bud with his tongue.

“Jaime,” Brienne whimpered, not groaned, not gasped, but  _ whimpered _ as he suckled at and licked and bit her breasts, and the sound he never expected to hear from the cop shot straight between his legs. “Jaime, Jaime, Jaime…”

He settled between her strong thighs, rubbing against her heat and she whimpered again as her long legs wrapped around him and held him tight against her, and he guessed the friction of their jeans was doing as much for her as it was doing for him. Reluctantly he left her breasts and buried his face in the crock of her neck, kissing her hotly, every possessive mark his mouth left on her pale skin making his jeans tighter and tighter until it was almost painful.

“Bedroom?” he breathed hotly against her ear, nibbling on the flesh and she nodded eagerly. Jaime got off her and offered her his hand. Brienne slid her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet before she led him to her bedroom, another classy elegant room. Before either could even breathe their lips were on one another again, hungry and wanting and needy. Jaime reached down and pawed at her ass through her jeans and she moaned into his mouth as he led her to the bed.

Grinning sinfully against her warm mouth, he picked her up, laughing at the surprised squeal as he lifted her off the floor and she clutched at his shoulders like she was a hundred feet off the ground rather than just a foot off the floor. 

“Told you I was strong enough,” Jaime purred, gazing up at her shocked face before he turned his attention to the small breasts now at eye level. He reached out with his tongue and flicked at her nipples and she groaned again, throwing her head back and gripping his hair with her hands. He lowered her onto the bed and kissed her again, slower but as sensual a kiss as he had ever done. Her long, long, long legs wrapped around his waist, her short nails dug into his back before she grabbed his shirt and pulled it off him so he was the same level undressed as she was. 

Her calloused hands ran over the muscles in his chest, his back and then she ran her long fingers through his hair and all the while he was kissing her jaw, her ear, her neck, lower and lower and lower until he was kneeling between her legs. 

“Don’t look away,” Jaime ordered her as he watched her close her eyes and fall back against her pillows. He managed to unbutton her jeans and slowly pull the zipper down. Between the three hands they managed to slide her jeans off, and she trembled under his gentle touch as he slid off her icy blue panties before he began kissing his way up her long pale leg.

He blew as soft as a butterfly's kiss against her silky thigh and then burrowed his face in between her legs, parting her pale pink lips that were covered in soft curly blonde down and licked the full length of her slit. Brienne whimpered and writhed as he pushed back the hood and began lick at her clit. When he wrapped his lips around the swollen bud and began to suck she screamed and arched her whole self off the bed, crying out his name. Jaime used his forearm to push her back down on the bed.

“Settle down,” he ordered the blonde, “or I’ll stop,” 

_ As if I could even if I wanted too. _

Jaime expected her to fight, to throw back a sharp barb, to challenge him but instead all she did was look at him with those big blue beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry,” she told him in a soft small voice. “I’ll be good.”

He could have cum right then.

“You‘ll behave, will you?” he muttered against her, devouring her salty slightly sour taste. She cried out again, almost a sob, as she dug her hands into the sheets and fisted them so hard he was sure she would have drawn blood but she stayed still and allowed him to feast. “You’ll be my good girl?”

“I will!” she gasped. “I will, I swear it! I swear it, Jaime! Jaime, Jaime, Jaime...!” 

He pushed his tongue inside her opening, curling it and twisting it before he replaced his tongue with his fingers and went back to noisily lapping at her slickness. His fingers danced inside her as he licked and sucked at her clit and he could feel her tightening around his fingers, he could hear her screaming his name and then he could taste the creamy rush of fluids as he made her cum, grabbing ahold of his hair and holding him there between her legs, as if anything on earth could have pried him from his new favorite position in the world.

Brienne may have experienced release but he was still straining against his jeans and he could feel the precum leaking. He licked up the rewards of his efforts, making sure to leave a fair amount on his lips, and then climbed on top of her. Jaime kissed her, marveling at the moan she made when she tasted her release on his lips. He reached between her legs and ran a finger through her southern lips and then pushing it inside her, getting it as soaked as she was before he brushed his wet fingers across her nipple and licked it up from the sensitive peaks. Brienne shuddered in delight, and when he ground his hardness against hers she remembered he had yet to be taken cared of she made short work of his jeans and briefs and then whimpered, Gods that fucking whimper, when he pressed his length unapologetically against her heat, wanting him to fill her as much as he wanted to.

“You want me to fuck you?” he purred in her ear, grinding against her and she nodded eagerly. “Say it. Say ‘please Jaime’.”

“Please Jaime,” she obeyed without hesitation, nails digging into his back. “Please Jaime!”

“‘Please fuck me’.” 

“Please fuck me!”

He nibbled at her ear. “Will you be my good girl, Brienne?”

“I’ll be your good girl! I will, I’ll be good, Jaime, I promise! Please!”

Deciding he had tortured her enough and desperately seeking relief himself he pushed into her, and he groaned and gasped as her hot slick tightness surrounded him. She was more than ready for him so he began a rhythm that was slow, almost punishingly slow, at first. He drank her kisses like they were wine and swallowed her moans and gasps as she did his. Her hands grabbed his ass and gripped him tight and he buried his face in the crook of her neck as he sped up his thrusts, filling her entirely, the wet slaps of their bodies coming together over and over again and again the perfect accompaniment to her mewling and his grunting. 

Sooner rather than later felt a tightness in his cock and he reached between them, rubbing hard, almost punishingly so, at her clit. Brienne screamed his name, clenching down on him so tight as she came it was a miracle she didn’t trap him for an eternity. Her tightness and the creamy reward he earned that spilled out around him sent him over the edge and with a loud roar he emptied himself in her, pushing into her as deep as he could before he collapsed on top of her, shuddering as he finished.

Neither of them could do much besides take deep greedy breaths of much needed air as he stayed on top and inside her. When they had their fill Jaime grabbed hold of her face and kissed her again, hungry and wet, not letting go until they were starving for air again. Only then did Jaime finally roll off her and collapse next to the almost shell-shocked blonde who was staring up at the ceiling as if in a trance. 

“Wow,” Jaime gasped out. “That was… wow.”

“I had no idea it could be that good or that I could feel… all that,” Brienne admitted, finally turning to look at him. “Are you just  **_that_ ** good or was everyone else just  **_that_ ** bad?”

Jaime wanted to laugh before the realization of what she said hit him. He turned to look over at her. “So…. what, are you saying you never…?”

A warm blush painted her cheeks and she shook her head. “No, never. Not with Tormund, not with any of my boyfriends before him… I mean there haven’t been a lot, only four guys but…. yeah never.”

He buried his hand in her hair, running his fingers through the short locks. “Well then,” he whispered, bringing her in for a soft kiss. “Looks like I got a lot of making up to do.”

Brienne laughed and Jaime grinned against her lips before they wrapped their arms around each other and she laid her head down on his chest. “You’re very cocky, you know that.”

“It’s not cocky if it’s earned.”

“No.” She snuggled up as close as she could to him as he pulled the blankets over top of them. “I suppose not.”

Jaime held her until she fell asleep in his arms, and the way she fit so perfect and so snug against the fit of his body was almost supernatural. She was worlds away from Cersei or Rhaella in that she was a whole head taller and broader to boot, but they matched in a strange sort of way when their bodies were molded together and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

He heard a buzzing coming from his jeans on the floor, his phone vibrating, and his mood which had been so happy immediately soured.

There was only one person who would be calling this late at night. 

No, Jaime decided as he closed his eyes, ignoring the continuing buzzing and instead focusing on Brienne’s breath and the subtle smell of raspberries coming from her hair, he had the best night he had in over three years. He was not about to let his sister ruin this. He wasn’t about to let go of Brienne just to tend to whatever Cersei’s needed. She would have to wait until morning or whenever she got around to calling him again.

With the phone still buzzing, Jaime fell into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of the blonde in his arms and not the one half a city away.  


* * *

“Pick up, Jaime, pick up! Please pick up, please, please, please!”

Cersei had to bite back a scream as she was sent to voicemail yet again. Tears gathered in the green eyes she shared with her twin and she hung up before it beeped, knowing the voice mail would be nothing but an automated message giving him the option to block her calls. Her hand trembled as she dialed his number again, praying this time he would answer but before she could get an answer the phones cut off. She looked at the clock on the wall and a sob ripped past her lips as she caught the time. 10:45 on the dot, meaning that no matter rather you were mid conversation or not the phones were shut off for the night.

“Come on, Lannister,” a guard who had been watching her. “Lights out in fifteen minutes.”

“No, please, I need to call my brother!” she cried, picking up a phone and frantically punching in his number. “Please just- just turn the phones back on for ten more minutes!”

He came over and snatched the phone from her hand, slamming it back down on the receiver. “No exceptions. Now let’s go or you get a day in solitary to cool you off.”

Left with no other choice, Cersei was forced to follow the guard, heart pounding all the while.

She made a mistake. She made a huge mistake, she didn’t even remember asking Yara to kill Jaime and a cop, much less a cop her brother, for whatever reason, had some kind of feelings for. What was worse was for nearly two weeks Yara mentioned nothing about it until tonight when she assured a mostly sober Cersei that ‘it was happening tomorrow’. When asked what she meant by that, Yara just laughed and reminded the blonde of the apparent deal.

She would get Bronn to smuggle in however much he could carry if Yara killed Jaime and Brienne. Yara figured she was messed up enough not to really mean Jaime but she went ahead and set the hit in place for Brienne which was taking place tomorrow (and, if she still wanted Jaime killed, that could be easily arranged.)

Cersei insisted she didn’t want ANYONE dead, even if Jaime was cheating on her, and not only that but she had no idea how to even get in touch with Bronn after nearly three years. She begged and pleaded and screamed and cried and threatened and even offered to lay on her back, but Yara told her no amount of temper tantrums or pleading or whoring would be able to unring the bell.

He would never talk to her again if this happened. He would despise her. He cared for Tarth, for whatever reason, and if she wound up dead because if Cersei much less so their old dealer could smuggle in drugs? Jaime would hate her. Her twin would never speak to her again, and that point what would be the point of living?

In tears the whole way back to her cell, Cersei walked into her 6x9 home only to be met with Yara leaning against the white wall, arms crossed in front of her ugly brown outfit and two of her girls standing guard on either side of the cell door.

Her expression was cold and hard, angry and unflinching. The guard walked away without so much of a second look to the intruder who strode up to her the moment they were alone.

“Go away,” the blonde growled, hoping her all encompassing fear didn’t shine through.

“You tried to warn your brother.” There wasn’t but an inch of height difference between them but the way she stared at her made Cersei feel as if she was a total of three inches tall while Greyjoy reached ten feet high. 

“I didn’t,” Cersei lied but she may as well not have even spoke.

“You tried to warn your brother, and it is only by the  _ grace of God _ that you didn’t get through.” They were nose to nose now. Cersei swallowed hard when she glanced down and saw the telltale bulge in her waist that held a weapon. 

_ You’re a lioness _ she told herself fiercely,  _ you fear nothing, not even death _ . Her family was an old one, a  _ very _ old one. Cersei come from the stock of Kings and Queens, she was named for the very first queen to ever sit on the Iron Throne, the Lannister sigil of old was a golden lion for Sevens sake, that was what gave her and Jaime the inspiration for the tattoos on their breasts. What did Yara fucking Greyjoy come from? A fisherman who lived on a bunch of cold dreary rocks somewhere up North? 

“That’s right I did try to call Jaime,” she snarled. “Because this is stupid, Yara. Killing a cop? How dumb do you have to be to think that this’ll go over well?”

“You don’t worry about what’ll go over or how.” 

“You’re going to get yourself in for life.”  _ Jaime will hate me _ . “And you can forget about Bronn helping you.”  _ He’ll never speak to me again.  _ “Just let the big cow go and we can do this without any more bloodshed.”  _ Keep her alive for Jaime’s sake.  _ “You gotta think smart here, Yara.”  _ He’ll come back to me, I know he will, but not if you kill his whore.  _

But Yara just smirked, and Cersei knew she was lost. She reached into her waistband and pulled a long shiv (what looked like a straight razor attached to a black handle surrounded by duct tape and rubber bands to keep its grip.) She held it up to her neck but Cersei refused to tremble or show fear. 

“When are you going to realize you’re the dumbest cunt alive and everyone’s already three steps ahead of you? Not only that, but you’re a dumb cunt who’s now a no good junkie rat.” Yara looked over Cersei’s shoulders and nodded to her girls who walked over and grabbed the frail in body blonde by the arms and dragged her to the chair beside the desk and slammed her down on it. 

_ Don’t look afraid. Don’t give them that satisfaction. If it’s going to happen, at least let it be said you went down without fear.  _

Cersei looked straight ahead, even as Yara leaned down next to her ear. “Don’t get me wrong, Lannister. The moment you’re free, you’re a goner. But I need you alive to finish the deal with Bronn.” She held up the shiv, catching the metal in the overhead light and making it glint. “So for now, this will have to do. A way to expose to the world what you are.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t move, hardly even blinked as Yara began hacking at her long blonde hair with the makeshift razor as the other two held down her arms.  _ You’re a lioness. Do not show them tears. _

Even though the hair had grown lank and limp in the past years, it still shined golden where the light touched it.  _ They think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong.  _

When her locks and curls were piled high around her feet, one of the girls grabbed her shaving cream and lathered it on thick, and Yara shaved away the stubble with a safety razor she had hidden up her sleeve. It was a cheap plastic two blade disposable and it left red streaks in its wake, but it did its job. _I am Cersei Lannister, a lion of the rock. I am the daughter of Tywin Lannister, the most influential man in Westeros. I am the lover of the most handsomest man in the world._

_ And hair grows back. _

Yara picked up the shank again and began to carve on the side of her now bald head. She didn’t need a mirror to know the three letter word that would be permanently cut into her scalp. 

‘Rat’. A message to the rest of the world that she tried to betray the mighty Yara Greyjoy. 

After she was done Yara snickered at the baldness, and made some jape but Cersei didn’t hear her. A buzzer erupted in the prison to let them know they had five minutes until lights out so with a clap on her shoulder and another unheard snide comment, Yara and the girls left her alone. Cersei neither moved nor spoke, not until the slam and heavy turn of the mechanical locks sounded and the overhead light in her cell shut off.

And then, only then, when she was given the peace and solidarity of her cell, did the lioness finally scream.

Please Review!


	16. Brienne VIII

When Brienne fell asleep that night she pictured waking up to strong arms wrapped around her and him nuzzling her neck as he peppered her with soft kisses. What she got instead, however, was nothing but emptiness besides her. 

Rubbing her eyes she sat up and saw Jaime sitting on the edge of the mattress head bowed and frowning. Her first thought was that she did something wrong but they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces and short of slapping him in their sleep she wasn’t sure what she could have done to upset him so badly. Then she thought that he might have regretted his decision to sleep with her, with someone other than his sister and an ugly woman at that. 

Deciding to get the inevitable over with, she cleared her throat to let Jaime know she was awake. “Morning,” she greeted him, hoping her cherry tone didn’t seem too forced. “You sleep alright?” He didn’t so much as look at her. Brienne swallowed hard, not having the strength to keep up the facade even for the short amount of time she did. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she would have laughed. Brienne went toe to toe with dangerous criminals all day but asking the man she spent the night with if something was the matter was sending her heart pounding against her chest. “Is um…. is- did I do something wrong?”

He turned to her and once she could see him more clearly, the expression he wore was not one she expected to see. Shame and guilt shined as clear as day in his emerald green eyes but no regret, no remorse was anywhere to be found. “You’ll hate me,” he told her, voice melancholy. 

“I won’t.”

“You will. If you don’t then you should.” She waited for him to continue, gently nudging him when he remained silent for a while until finally he took a deep breath and spoke. “Remember a few months ago when you came with me to the hospital?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you recall my diagnosis?”

“...Shit.”

“Yeah,” Jaime muttered as he bowed his head. “I didn’t remember either until this morning.”

Brienne swallowed hard, placing a calloused hand on her stomach. She had the insert so she never once worried about pregnancy when she let him cum inside her without a condom, she just forgot about the disease. 

“I’ll pay for your treatment,” he said, bringing her out of her thoughts. His eyes still couldn’t meet hers. “Your doctors visits, your prescriptions, everything. I’m so sorry, Brienne.”

She took a deep breath, forcing the rational part of her mind to overcome the panicking threatening to charge. “You… okay, the doctor said you had an eight week course of drugs right?” He nodded. “When did you get finished with that?”

“Two months ago.”

Her heart started slowing some. “And the doctor, did he tell you that it was all cleared up?”

“It takes three months to be declared officially ‘cured’ but he said if I followed the drug regimen I was probably okay.”

“Did you?”

“To the letter.”

Brienne let out a breath of relief before she reached over and kissed his bare shoulder. He turned towards her and raised a golden brow. “Then I’m probably fine, Jaime. I’ll go to an anonymous clinic and get tested but I’m pretty sure I’m okay.”

“I put you in danger,” he argued, bowing his head in shame. “With Euron, with this… What if neither of us remembered and you didn’t get tested until it was too late?”

“But we did, so it’s fine. Next time we’ll use a condom.” She gnawed at her plump lip. “Unless you don’t  _ want _ to do this again?”

He whipped his head around to look at her. His green eyes were wide and his strong jaw had dropped halfway to the floor. “Not want- Brienne, last night was  _ amazing.  _ I mean I never imagined you of all people would be into all that.” 

Her cheeks burned bright with flush and Jaime chuckled, as he oft did when her pale flesh blushed crimson. “I… it’s just- it’s nice to give up control for a little bit,” she muttered and this time it was his turn to kiss her shoulder. 

He led a trail up to her neck, and she just barely bit back a groan when his morning scruff rubbed pleasantly against her flesh. “Is it?”

“Mmm,” she answered, sapphires fluttering closed, but before her fire could spread Jaime pulled away. She opened her eyes but before she could comment on the departure he buried his flesh hand in her mussed hair.

“I wanna wait until I’m for sure in the clear, until we both are, to do this again, just to be safe.” His eyes crinkled. “Your responsible-ness rubbed off on me.”

Not finding any real flaw in his unfortunately logical argument except that she wanted him (badly), she agreed they would wait until his next doctor's appointment (and after she had a checkup as well). 

Besides, he reminded her, in a month he would be a truly free man and he wouldn’t need to ask permission to stay at her apartment or leave by a certain time. It was still early and they had some time before she would drop him back off at the Onion House so they got dressed and afterwards Brienne made him a home cooked breakfast of buttermilk waffles, eggs benedict and bacon crisped to such a point it crumbled at the slightest touch, per Jaime’s request. They spent the morning eating, getting to know one another better, and then she readied herself for work (her shift started at 2 and it was just 11:30 when she emerged from her bedroom in jeans and a pale blue hoodie asking if he was ready to go but by the time she dropped him off and made her way to the precinct it would be near enough that she could clock in without issue.) 

“So you wouldn’t mind going with me to house hunt?” He asked her as they made their way down the street to the parking garage where her car was kept. “I mean I know I still have a month left but-.”

“No no, I completely understand you wanting to get things settled and wanting to move onto your new chapter.” Jaime smiled at her before he reached down and grabbed hold of her hand. She tried not to think about how perfect the two fit together. “Besides I know a few charities that help get former felons housing, I can make sure you get top priority.”

Jaime came to a halt on the sidewalk, pulling her close to him. The softness in his eyes could’ve melted her into a puddle right there on the sidewalk. “I ever tell you how amazing you are?”

Brienne grinned rather sheepishly as he leaned in for a kiss. “Once or twice.”

“I need help!”

On instinct Brienne whipped towards the voice which belonged to a long gaunt man sprinting towards her. His brown eyes were terrified, his face frozen in fear. “I need help!” he shouted again. 

Brienne reached out and grabbed hold of the man’s shoulders, gentle but strong enough to keep him steady. “I’m a police officer,” she said in a commanding calm tone. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“My thithter!” he slobbered in a heavy lisp. “Thee juthed collapthed!”

“Where is she?”

“In the alley! Pleathe, hurry!”

“I’ll get home on my own,” Jaime said quickly without so much as a hint of hesitation. “I’m fine, go.”

Not needing to be told twice Brienne told the man to lead her to where his sister was. She followed him in a dead sprint down a nearby alley crowded with trash and dumpsters and a foul darkness but she didn’t see anyone on the ground or in the piles of trash.

“Where is she?” Brienne asked again as she looked around the alleyway but not finding any hide or hair of anyone. “Where is she, where’s your sister?”

The familiar click of a gun being cocked answered her.

She froze, everything but her heart which continued to race and pounding against her chest. Her service revolver was in her purse, she would never be able to get it out in time, so, slowly, she raised her hands in the air, doing her best to keep her breathing steady.

“I’m an officer of the law,” she reminded him as calmly as she could. “Any crime you commit against me adds an additional ten year to your sentence.”

“Thut up,” the man snarled, “and turn around.” 

“You don’t wanna do this,” she told him again, voice as calm and soft as a breeze. “Just put down the gun, and go. I won’t press charges or attempt to pursue you.”

“I thed… turn around.” 

Slowly as not to spook him, Brienne slowly turned, each moment lasting a lifetime. “Whatever is driving you or what drove you to do this,” she started as she finally came around to face the man holding her life in his hand. “Whatever is wrong, you and I, we can work it out. We can-.”

The second bang echoed every bit as loud as the first. With a heavy thud, Brienne hit the floor of the alley…

Please Review! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #BlackLivesMatter ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿 https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/


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